


A Clash of NEETs

by FullParagon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, この素晴らしい世界に祝福を! | KonoSuba: God's Blessing on this Wonderful World! - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon is for the weak, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Senpai Notice Me, multi-cross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 144,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullParagon/pseuds/FullParagon
Summary: Planetos: A world marked by a dark fate, where kings and lords vie for power with twisted plots and the gods have turned their backs.NOW UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT! NOW WITH PROACTIVE (IF DUMB) DEITIES!A certain useless goddess has taken a vested interest in the destiny of Westeros, and has decided that fate's deck is getting reshuffled: Instead of Poker, we're playing Go Fish. The children of noble houses across the land are looking a bit strange, and behaving even more oddly. The fate of the world is in their hands, but instead of fighting, they're really rather just have fun.
Relationships: Megumin/Satou Kazuma, Robb Stark/Darkness | Lalatina Dustiness Ford, Theon Greyjoy/The Drowned Goddess
Comments: 51
Kudos: 64





	1. Kids these days...

_Presenting the Crossover that absolutely no one asked for:_

_Konosuba and A Song of Ice and Fire_

_**A Clash of NEETs** _

_A Full-Paragon Production_

_Directed by The Grand Cognator_

_Brought to you by:_ [ _Cabin Fever_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmQwL6qiByo)

_And, with a special thank you to our sponsor, Raid, Shadow Legends. Buy now and get a free bar of Axis Cult Brand Edible Soap!_

_Chapter 1: Kids These Days..._

  
The large wheelhouse rolled up the bumpy road towards Winterfell, the small folk coming to the graveled road and waving and cheering as the king’s company arrived. The crown prince ignored them, trying to get in one last nap before he had to make nice with the boring people. They were his dad’s friends, so he figured that meant they had to be fat idiots who had an obsession with violence and, horror of horrors, going outside.  
  
“Wake up, nephew. You do need to look presentable for our hosts.”  
  
The prince opened one eye, glaring up at his uncle. “Why do I care if I’m presentable? I’m the Crown Prince, it’s their job to accept me, not the other way around.”  
  
Tyrion Lannister sighed and shook his misshapen head. “You know your father intends to make Eddard Stark his hand. It would behoove you to at least make a good first impression on the man who will help run the Seven Kingdoms.”  
  
“Fine.” The prince sat up, patting down his messy blond hair and smoothing out his clothes. “Mom send you in here to bitch me out or you come on your own?”  
  
“Your lady mother seems to consider this trip nearly as onerous as you, nephew, and as such appears to be making little effort to display her good breeding.”  
  
“So that means I don’t have to try either, right?” the prince asked hopefully. When his uncle just gave him a disapproving stare, he rolled his eyes. “Ok, whatever. I’ll even ‘speak properly’ so you don’t ride my ass about it later.”  
  
“That would be wise of you, Prince Kazuma,” Tyrion agreed. “I’m so glad to have a nephew with such wit and virtue.”  
  
Kazuma made a rude noise, and he and his favorite relative shared a good laugh.”Ah well, I guess it won’t kill me to act like a prince for a day.”  
  
“Oh, you never know. All sorts of things can kill a man if he’s not careful,” Tyrion said as they walked to the exit, the wheelhouse having just rolled to a stop.  
  
“Alright boy, now don’t go disrespecting old Ned,” the king ordered, shaking a fat finger at Kazuma. “None of your tricks now, you hear.”  
  
“Honored father, I shall endeavor to behave with the utmost sense of decorum while in the home of Lord Stark,” Kazuma said, inclining his head.  
  
That gave the fat old king pause. “Oh, er right. See that you do, boy. I don’t want any funny business now. Be polite and respectful, Northmen are prickly sorts.”  
  
For a wonder, Kazuma managed to avoid rolling his eyes, then respectfully followed his father down the steps. He waited, giving Tyrion a hand, as his bowed legs didn’t take the steps well. His uncle nodded his thanks, and Kazuma turned to the family waiting respectfully for them. He remembered their names, mostly. The oldest was...Rob? Right, Rob, the tall one with dark red hair. The other boy was...J something? He wasn’t important, he was a bastard. Not that Kazuma really cared, but-  
  
“BEHOLD!” one of the girls yelled, jumping out in front of his dad and startling the old man as she struck a dramatic pose, both hands over her head, red eyes blazing. “I AM KOMEKKO! CUTEST LITTLE SISTER OF THE HOUSE OF STARK!”  
  
There was a soft groan, and Lord Stark put his hand over his eyes as his wife reached out to grab her youngest daughter by the collar and haul her back into line. Before she could though, another Stark girl jumped out, standing behind her younger sibling and quickly putting on a scarlet eyepatch. “BEHOLD! I AM MEGUMIN! FOREMOST GENIUS OF THE HOUSE OF STARK, AND WIELDER OF THE MAGIC BLADE, CHUNCHUMARU!”  
  
Now Lady Stark looked furious, while the two elder Stark sons appeared to have developed a coughing fit. The baby, Ricky or something, looked delighted and was clapping his hands. Several of the knights had smirks on their lips, while others looked as mortified as Lord Stark, who was still groaning.  
  
“A-And Behold! I am Yunyun! Foremost Seamstress of the House of Stark, and she who w-will be a p-proper lady!” the eldest Stark daughter cried, posing beside her twin sister.  
  
The king's party was thunderstruck, apparently not sure what to make of this egregious breach of protocol. Kazuma, however, knew exactly what to do.  
  
“BEHOLD!” He roared, drawing his sword and jumping out infront of his father. “I AM PRINCE KAZUMA BARATHEON! NOBLEST WARRIOR OF THE HOUSE BARATHEON, AND HE WHO WILL ONE DAY BE KING!”  
  
Sure, Kazuma could practically feel his family’s disapproval, but he was not letting these northerners upstage him.  
  
At that, Lord Stark looked up, his mouth falling open slightly, as Lady Stark paused in her efforts to somehow grab all three of her daughters by their ears.  
  
“Ha!” Megumin cried, wiggling away from her lady mother who had confiscated the eyepatch and grinning from ear to ear as she planted herself in front of the prince. “At least, a southerner who knows how to give a proper greeting! See father? I told you we should do a full family pose!”  
  
For a moment, no one could think of what to do or say. Then King Robert let out a deep belly laugh. “Seven Hells, Ned. The goddesses cursed you with one too, did they? Or maybe it’s three!”  
  
“My daughters do seem to have somewhat unique sensibilities,” Lord Stark agreed as he stepped out to put a hand on Megumin’s shoulder. Kazuma could see wince slightly as the hand rested on her shoulder, but the squeeze that followed seemed more affectionate than angry or hurtful. “I apologize, your Grace. My children have-”  
  
“Oh leave off, Ned, we’re old friends,” Robert chuckled, and stepped forward to wrap his old friend in a warm embrace. “It’s good to see you again, it’s been too long.”  
  
“When the two separated, Robert nudged Kazuma forward. “Well, it seems you’ve met my eldest, Kazuma. Don’t ask about the funny name, his birth was marked by queer omens from Aqua herself and for some reason it seemed like the only proper name for him.”  
  
“Strange you should mention that,” Eddard said, frowning at his own daughters. “I don’t follow your Southron gods myself, but Catelyn was most insistent on some...different names for our daughters.”  
  
“That is because our births were marked by dark, terrible omens that have foretold that one day we shall be required to save the world from an endless night where the Others themselves-” Megumin was cut off when her mother very firmly grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back.  
  
Everyone went through introductions after that, which was boring, so Kazuma didn’t really pay that much attention. Instead, he found himself eyeing the very strange Stark girls. He wasn’t really sure what had come over him to copying their silly poses, but it had at least been more interesting than the usual bowing and scraping crap people did.  
  
Maybe staying in Winterfell wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
  
Still, Kazuma made sure to fortify his sanctuary as soon as possible, selecting a room with a nice warm fire and a large bookshelf, which he had servants fill with all his favorite books. He ditched the fancy silks for a comfortable robe he could relax in, and set about partaking in his favorite activity: Taking a nap.  
  
However, there was soon a knock at the door, and the prince opened one eye. “What? I’m in the middle of something!”  
  
“Lion-O is missing,” a timid voice said.  
  
With a groan, Kazuma pulled on a tunic and trousers, scratching at himself as he swung open the door to glare down at his younger siblings. “What, again?”  
  
Myrcella nodded, her eyes wet with tears. “He ran away when he heard the howling and now we can’t find him!”  
  
“You gotta help us, Big Bro, everyone else is busy!” Tommen begged.  
  
Despite his cultivated persona of being a useless layabout and greedy jerk, there were a few things in life that could melt even Kazuma’s heart, and one of them was his Little Sis giving him the puppy dog eyes.  
  
“Ok, fine. We’ll go look for your stupid cat,” Kazuma agreed, stepping out of his sanctuary with more than hint of reluctance.  
  
“Aren’t you going to bring your sword?” Tommen asked, looking very worried. “There are monsters here, we heard them howling!”  
  
“I mean, yeah, we probably could use someone to keep us safe,” Kazuma agreed, and put his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. “Yo, Sandor, come here!”  
  
There was a growl, and a massive knight in plate stalked out of the shadows. “What is it?”  
  
“Lion-O ran off again,” Kazuma informed his bodyguard as Tommen hid behind him as the fearsome Hound approached. “Oh relax, Tommy, I’ve told you. The Hound’s bark is worse than his bite. At least as long as you're good.”  
  
“I-I’m good,” Tommon whimpered, but stepped out from behind Kazuma. Kazuma took his little brother's hand, giving it a squeeze. Really, Sandor was ugly as sin, but he was a big softy so long as you weren’t his asshole brother.  
  
“You want me to help find your pet cat?” Sandor growled, glaring at Kazuma.  
  
“No, Lion-O is my pet!” Myrcella declared. “Come on Mr. Hound, you always know the best places to look for him!”  
  
“As my liege commands,” Sandor muttered, but followed after the little princess, and when she reached up to take his massive hand, Sandor clasped it, following along after Myrcella. It had taken Kazuma a while to convince Sandor that the most important part of keeping the Crown Prince safe was making sure his little sister was happy. He still seemed almost frightened he’d hurt Myrcella or Tommen, but at least Myrcella’s eternally bright and happy disposition seemed to be softening even the Hound’s black heart.  
  
“You should get your sword,” Tommen said, looking worried still. “There are monsters here.”  
  
“Oh, fine,” Kazuma grumbled, and retrieved Masamune and buckled it on. He barely used the thing and always hated it when his dad or Uncle Jamie dragged him out to practice with it. Still, he was pretty good for a twelve year old he figured, but it wasn’t like he could take an adult in any fair fight.  
  
Good thing Kazuma firmly believed fair fights were for suckers and morons. That was one of the few things about himself he knew that Sandor highly approved of.  
  
They wandered about Winterfell for a bit, looking in all the usual places that Lion-O might have run off too. The cat had been a nameday gift from Kazuma to his sister a year ago, and the spoiled cat still behaved like a skittish kitten most of the time. Even with the bells and ribbons Myrcella and Tommen adorned the tabby cat with, he could be quite the challenge to find.  
  
“O-oh! H-hello, um, y-you’re Prince Kazuma, right?”  
  
Kazuma looked up from his search through one of the many rooms that had been given over to the Southron invaders to see the nervous looking Yunyun standing there, biting her lip.  
  
“That’s my name,” Kazuma agreed. “You see a cat around here? Tabby, got red ribbons tied around its neck, little bells on it.”  
  
“A c-cat? Um, no, I haven’t,” Yunyun admitted. “Is it your pet?”  
  
“It’s Cella’s pet,” Tommen said, nodding seriously. “Lion-O ran away. He got scared by the monsters.”  
  
“M-monsters!? Y-you mean like that big scary one with the big sword and the dog face?” Yunyun gasped.  
  
Kazuma shook his head. “Nah, that’s just Sandor. He looks mean but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Tom just thinks there’s some giant monsters making weird noses, but all the books I’ve read say all the monsters are beyond the Wall now so the North is just cold and boring.”  
  
“Oh good. Well, I-I can help you find your cat! My pet Lady is really good at finding things! W-We could be friends!” Yunyun stammered, blushing and looking down.  
  
“Ok, you seem nice,” Tommen agreed. He’d picked up more than a little of the “improper speech” that everyone was always ragging on Kazuma about, much to their tutors and nannies' consternation.  
  
“Great! Here, Lady!”  
  
Kazuma turned just in time to see a giant monster barreling down the hall towards them, great red tongue lolling out, massive fangs gleaming in the light.  
  
“AHHH, MONSTER!” Kazuma shrieked, and shoved Tommen behind him as he drew his sword and pointed it towards the beast. He felt a strange welling of energy within himself, and found himself saying, “CREATE EARTH!” A clump of dust appeared in his hand, and he tossed it at the monster in desperation.  
  
Or at least, he would have, if Yunyun hadn’t thrown herself in the way. “Noooo! Lady’s a good girl, she-ack, pfff!”  
  
Kazuma had ended up throwing a dirt clod at Yunyun, who rubbed at her eyes and started to cry. The giant monsters came to a halt and...began to lick her face? Kazuma blinked, and realized it was actually a great big puppy. A wolf puppy, sure, but it was clearly a friendly one.  
  
“Oh, um, sorry, I-”  
  
“GLORY TO HOUSE STARK!”  
  
Something jabbed Kazuma in the back, and he spun around to find Megumin glaring at him, a sawed off wooden broomhandle raised at him in a two handed fighting grip. Written on the wood in crude charcoal letters was “CHUNCHUMARU.” Kazuma batted aside the stick in irritation with his own sword, though he felt a little bad. “Oh back off, Tommen was just scared to see a giant puppy charge us. I’m not going to skewer your sister or her dog.”  
  
“It wasn’t your little brother who was screaming like a little girl,” Megumin taunted, striking right back at Kazuma’s sword. “And you made Yunyun cry!”  
  
“She made Tommen cry first!” Kazuma argued, and before he knew it, he and Megumin were exchanging a rapid flurry of blows. They weren’t actually trying to hit one another, just doing the satisfying back and forth of striking at one another’s blades. Kazuma was careful to hit only with the flat of his own blade, as he didn’t want to slice Chunchumaru in half and piss off the irate Stark girl even more.  
  
“WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS IS GOING ON IN HERE!?” the angry voice of Kazuma’s father bellowed, and he and Megumin both jumped about three feet in the air and spun around to face the red faced king, who was wheezing slightly as he lumbered down the hall towards them, Ned Stark hot on his heels  
  
“S/HE STARTED IT!” Kazuma and Megumin wailed, both pointing at one another.  
  
“Kazuma disgraced our family and assaulted Yunyun!” Megumin declared, pointing a finger accusingly at Kazuma as she tried to hide her “sword” behind her back.  
  
“Oh I call BS! We were just looking for Lion-O when that great big menace of a dog of hers ran at us, and I was valiantly defending my little brother! Yunyun just got in the way!” Kazuma argued, handing his own sword off to a very confused Tommen to disguise his own guilt.  
  
“W-wait, it’s OK, we were just, um, playing!” Yunyun said desperately, trying to play peacemaker. “It was a game! Um, Kazuma, he was er, showing Megumin how to sword fight!”  
  
“Shut up Yunyun, I’m not supposed to have a sword!” Megumin hissed, putting her hand over her sister’s mouth.  
  
“Ha! I knew it!” Kazuma taunted. “You’re crap with a sword anyway! I totally could have cleaned your-AHHH!”  
  
Megumin gave up on Yunyun and launched herself at Kazuma with a snarl the two of them rolled around on the floor, kicking and punching at one another and hissing like two cats in a sack, until both their fathers grabbed them and forcibly hauled them apart.  
  
“Boy, this is no way for a prince to behave!” Robert roared, poking Kazuma in the belly. “That’s not how you treat a lady!”  
  
“She’s not a lady, she’s crazy! And she’s just a little girl, a very rude one!” Kazuma argued as he hung limply in the king’s grip. “Besides, YOU’RE the one always talking about tumbling a girl, I figured I’d get started with her!”  
  
That got his father to shut up and go even redder in the face, his mouth hanging open. Ned Stark, who had been in the middle of lecturing his own daughter, paused and gave Kazuma a scandalized look. Megumin, however, was apparently even worse than Kazuma at knowing when to shut up.  
  
“Ha! I’ll tumble you, you stupid brat! Just you wait until I get a REAL sword! I’ll study the way of the blade and tumble you so hard I’ll knock your socks off!”  
  
“Oh Seven Hells,” Robert groaned, dropping Kazuma to the ground as he let out a panicked squeak and smacked into the floor. “Boy, that is not what I meant by...look, ya don’t talk about such things in polite company! And here I was trying to get a marriage agreement between you and one of Ned’s daughters...”  
  
“Marriage!?” both Kazuma and Megumin exchanged horrified looks with one another.  
  
“No way! I’m way too young for this!” Kazuma protested. “I just want to relax and have a good time! A wife is way too much work! I’d have to get a job!”  
  
“You’re going to make me marry him!? He’s dumb and rude, and I hear he spends all his time in his room like some sort of NEET!” Megumin argued with her father, who had set her down somewhat more gently.  
  
Ned, however, was eyeing Kazuma and Megumin, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, your Grace, I might just be willing to agree to such a thing. My girls are young yet, but mayhaps our children will develop a fondness for one another.”  
  
“W-we could be friends!” Yunyun agreed eagerly, even as Robert groaned and put his hand over his face, scrubbing at it.  
  
“Your job, boy, is to be King when I get too old and fat to sit on that bloody throne anymore! What did you think you were going to do, have to become a cobbler and something?!”  
  
Kazuma shrugged, feeling slightly abashed. “I mean, I dunno, I figured I could do something cool like become a pirate or Adventurer. You know, get rich.”  
  
“You’re going to be king! Kings are always rich!” Robert cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “That’s what taxes are for!”  
  
“Yeah, but that sounds lame. I’d rather steal my treasure from Lysene merchants or by killing monsters and taking their loot,” Kazuma pointed out.  
  
“Ned, you deal with your daughters, I’m having a talk with my son,” the king growled, and grabbed Kazuma and began dragging him off.  
  
“Me too, daddy?” Tommen asked, jogging along and clinging to Masamune.  
  
Robert blinked, apparently having forgotten Tommen was there. Sensing an opportunity, Kazuma hastily picked Tommen up with one arm and slung him onto his back. “Of course! It’s time for some father son bonding time! Dad’s going to show us his certified anti-monster fighting tactics. Just like the ones he used on the Trident against Rhaegar!”  
  
“Really?” Tommen gasped, looking eager. While Robert was somewhat exasperated by Kazuma, he at least paid him occasional attention. He seemed to forget Tommen existed half the time.  
  
“Of course, you know our dad is the biggest and the strongest, and the greatest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms!” Kazuma bragged.  
  
That got their father to puff up with pride, and he was soon regaling his sons with stories of his past adventures as Tommen listened eagerly, and Kazuma congratulated himself on getting out of trouble, at least for the moment. He did have to endure a brief training session out in the yard, but hey, things worked out.  
  
Kazuma did wonder about that weird power. Had that been magic? If it had been, this required further study. There had to be a way to apply it to get out of his lessons with the maesters.  
  
======================================================================  
  
Viserys Targaryen was a nervous man, who lived in perpetual fear for his life, even in the manse of Illyrio Mopatis. After all, there was nothing he feared more than accidentally Waking the Dragon. He could still hear the screams of anguish and see the broken bodies from the last time the Dragon had Woken up, when assassins had come to the House with the Red Door.  
  
For now, however, he was fairly certain the Dragon was asleep, and was taking a moment in the early morning to get some peace and quiet as he ate breakfast in the gardens. He had important visitors today, and he-  
  
“Good morning, Big Bro!”  
  
Viserys nearly choked on the pomegranate he’d been eating, coughing and spitting out the pulp and seeds he’d nearly swallowed. “L-Little Sister! G-Good morning!”  
  
“It’s a good day today, Big Bro!’ his sister said, planting herself at the table and grabbing some of Viserys’s food. He didn’t complain: he might accidentally Wake the Dragon. “I just know we’ll find a way to get back your throne and go home soon!”  
  
“Er, yes, Little Sister. I, er, was going to talk to you about that. You see, the Dothraki have heard of our plight, and are sending an emissary from Khal Drogo, who leads a massive army of Dothraki screamers. I was thinking of sending you with them, as, um, a peace offering and-”  
  
“Oh yes! I’ve heard about the Dothraki, they seem really strong, Big Bro! Don’t worry, we’ll both go and make the Dothraki fight for us against the Usurper!”  
  
Wincing, Viserys tried to find the right words. “Ah, you see, sister, I was going to stay here while you went. I, er, don’t have the constitution for such a long journey, and I’m not terribly fond of riding horses. I was just going to remain with Illyrio and-”  
  
“Oh no, Big Bro, you’re the one who’s going to be king,” his sister said seriously looking at him with her strange purple eyes. “You have to come too so that the Dothraki can see how cool my Big Bro really is! They’ll be sure to swear themselves to you and help us take your throne back!”  
  
“Er, of course, but you see, I was thinking that, well, since the Dothraki enjoy fighting so much, and well, you know how you feel about that! Well, perhaps you’d be interested in marrying Khal Drogo to form our bargain…”  
  
“Haha! Don’t be silly, Big Bro! You know you’re the only man for me!” His sister gave Viserys an affectionate hug. It made his skin crawl, and he felt his breath catch in terror. “We’ll get married someday, just like all the Targaryens before us! And we’ll be together, forever and ever, Big Bro!”  
  
“Um, yes, Iris. I’m certain we will,” Viserys agreed, and said a quick prayer to the Seven Goddesses to please, please, find someone who could take his little sister far, far away from him, forever. He had thought he wanted to be king, until he saw what his baby sister could do to people. Now he just wanted to find somewhere quiet to live, far away from violence and his Little Sister.  
  
Much to Viserys' consternation, both his sister and Illyrio insisted that he attend the party with the Dothraki instead of hiding in his room, as was the sensible thing to do. Still, the Dothraki were amiable, with Khal Drogo finding Iris some sort of intriguing exotic specimen. They also met a knight named Jorah Mormont, who tried to pledge himself to Viserys.  
  
“Oh, no, its her you want, not me,” Viserys said, pointing to Iris who was talking eagerly with several mercenary captains, who at first had been amused to have a little girl talk to them about how to best wreck mayhem, but were now seriously discussing tactics and ways to maim people with her.  
  
“Aren’t you the heir of Aerys Targaryen?” Ser Jorah asked, his great bushy black brow furrowing in consternation.  
  
“Technically, yes, but she’s Iris Stormborn, blessed by the Goddess Athena on the night of her birth. I’m just her Big Bro,” Viserys told Jorah bluntly.  
  
Jorah seemed to be unsure how to take this, but Iris did accept his fealty “in the name of her Big Bro.”  
  
Despite his best efforts, Viserys was unable to sneak away and find a boat for somewhere quiet and peaceful where Iris never tired to murder anyone. She always seemed to sense when he was going somewhere, and would insist on accompanying him to “protect my Big Bro.” Viserys had stopped going out after a couple of thugs had attempted to rob them a few years back, and the then ten year old Iris had ripped one of their arms off and used it to beat the other senseless with.  
  
He wished he was exaggerating that, but he could still see her smiling brightly at him, spattered with blood. “Don’t worry, Big Bro, I’ll keep you safe!”  
  
After a month, the wedding was set, as Iris had agreed to marry Khal Drogo, “If he can beat me!”  
  
Drogo had thought this was a joke, and had remarked through a translator how he liked his feisty bride to be. Viserys knew for an absolute certainty that Iris was going to show up to the wedding clad in plate and demanding a duel.  
  
For a brief moment, Viserys thought his little sister was going to be sensible for once when she turned up to the wedding party dressed in her wedding dress. He’d barricaded himself in his room the night before and claimed to be sick, as Iris had come to his door and asked if he wanted to claim her hand in marriage. He honestly couldn’t think of a more horrifying fate.  
  
At the start of the wedding, Drogo had smiled at his bride to be, until she had stepped up and said in perfect Dothraki (having gotten Ser Jorah to teach her the words), “Khal Drogo, I challenge you for leadership of your Khalasar!”  
  
At first, everyone laughed at seeing a fourteen year old girl who had barely entered womanhood and who came up only to about Khal Drogo’s shoulder if she was standing on her tiptoes. Then, seeing that his intended was being stubborn, Drogo made some lewd remark about breaking a horse before you mounted it, picked up his arakh, and strode toward Iris. Despite his mounting horror, Viserys’ couldn’t look away.  
  
Which meant he got a very clear look as Iris easily dodged Drogo’s first swing, and broke his arm with a single blow, then his leg, dropping Drogo to the ground. On seeing this, Drogo’s bloodriders let out a bellow of anger and charged Iris, who was still wearing only her dress, barefoot and barefisted. Viserys groaned, knowing just how lopsided the fight would be.  
  
There were only three of them, after all. And they weren’t even wearing armor.  
  
Iris caught the whip of one of the men right out of the air and jerked it hard enough to send him flying towards her. She simply slammed him to the ground, then charged his roaring companions. She didn’t bother to dodge the arakh swing this time, smacking it out of the air on the flat of the blade with her palm, which made its wielder howl and drop the weapon, just in time for Iris to jump up and kick him in the chest hard enough to send the man crashing through the table Viserys was now hiding under.  
  
“DO YOU YIELD?” Iris roared, having the last Bloodrider by the braid as she held his battered head up. He didn’t have time to answer, as upon seeing Drogo’s Bloodriders downed, just about every minor khas and ko had picked up their weapons and run screaming at Iris.  
  
“YOU WILL ALL SERVE MY BIG BRO!” Iris roared, and picked up an arakh. “SACRED SWORD TECHNIQUE!”  
  
Fully a dozen mighty Dothraki warriors were rendered limb from limb in a spray of gore, and Viserys whimpered and covered his head with his hands, pressing his face into the dirt. He heard Jorah fighting to protect him, but Viserys never looked up.  
  
After what felt like hours, he felt someone shake him. “Big Bro, I won! I beat them all!”  
  
Trembling, Viserys looked up to see his grinning sister, her wedding dress now a bloody rag. He already knew not one drop of that blood belonged to Iris, though she was so covered in filth and gore most would have thought her mortally wounded.  
  
“Er, that’s good, little sister. Do, er, you have an army?” Viserys asked hopefully. Maybe he could send Iris off to Westeros and have her fight Robert. That would solve at least one of his problems.  
  
Iris’s expression fell. “No, sorry Big Bro. I sort of accidentally killed Drogo, I think he got crushed in the melee. And then I kinda broke all his best fighters and the rest all ran away. And, um, well, we need to run because I accidentally on purpose set everything on fire.”  
  
Viserys looked around, and saw that all the tents and pavilions were indeed blazing merrily now. There were corpses of dothraki warriors everywhere, and Viserys even hoped some of them hadn’t been Iris’s handiwork.  
  
“Er, that’s good, little sister. Um, let’s just head back to Magister Illyrio’s,” Viserys said, trembling slightly as Ser Jorah helped him up.  
  
“No can do, Big Bro. He ran away and told me to never come near him again,” Iris said mournfully. “Don’t worry, I got us some horses and treasure everyone left behind when they ran away from me!”  
  
Viserys spent the night outside the walls of Pentos as he watched Khal Drogo’s encampment burn to the ground. In the morning, Iris eagerly scrambled over the wreckage, pulling out valuables as Ser Jorah watched in amazement.  
  
“Truly, she is Queen Iris Stormborn,” Jorah breathed. Viserys glanced at the man, and saw adoration written on his features. He shuddered and scooted away. Another maniac.  
  
“Big Bro, Big Bro, look!” Iris yelled, drawing Viserys out of his stupor. Iris held out her hands, revealing a crooning lizard of some sort.  
  
Then, it spread its wings.  
  
“Big Bro, I got you some dragons!”  
  
Viserys started to weep.  
  
 _Cast of Characters:  
  
Kazuma Sato as; Joffrey Baratheon  
  
Megumin as; Aria Stark  
  
Yunyun as; Sansa Stark  
  
Komekko as; Bran Stark  
  
Iris Stylish Sword Belzerg as; Daenerys Targaryen  
  
Aqua as...I dunno. The Maiden, probably.  
  
Athena from Saint Seiya as; the Warrior  
  
Various others  
  
And the cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as Themselves (except the ones who aren’t)  
  
In Memory of our good friend, ASOIAF canon. You had a good run up until the Konosuba cast showed up._


	2. Fight Like A NEET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddard makes a strong case for World's Best Dad, which Kazuma shows that he still retains his ability to stick his foot in his mouth.

_Written and directed by: Full Paragon_

_Produced by: The Grand Cogitator_

_This chapter brought to you by: Dollar Shave Club. Try our new Spice and Wolf scented shave butter today, and we’ll throw in a free lesson on medieval economics!_

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_And special thanks to our readers and reviews who support us on patreon. You can become a A Clash of NEETs patron at the Like level by leaving a Like today, and ensure more crack is distributed to a NEET in need._

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_Chapter 2: Fight Like a_ _NEET_

  
  
Early morning sunlight filtered through the red leaves of the weirwood tree in the Winterfell Godswood. Lord Eddard Stark sat with Megumin’s head nestled in his lap as she snored softly. She’d been ordered to spend the night in prayer and repentance alone in the godswood, but when Ned had come out to put a warm blanket around his daughter she’d already been fast asleep.  
  
His daughter had hardly spent the night alone: Megumin’s direwolf lay curled around her mistress's feet, ears twitching slightly as she slept. Ned had already taken Yunyun back to her bedchambers, as despite not being punished herself, she’d snuck out to spend the night with her sister.  
  
He smiled to himself and smoothed away some of her dark hair from her forehead. Despite the consternation she caused him with her boundless energy and strange obsessions, he loved his daughter dearly. He loved all of his children, but Megumin’s wild spirit had a special place in his heart.  
  
“Goddesses of my fathers, watch over my daughters. Give them wisdom and temperance, and give me patience and virtue in dealing with them,” Eddard whispered as he stroked Megumin’s hair. “Help me be a better father, and guide me in accepting Robert’s offer to become his hand.”  
  
“Well, for one who desires so many blessings, thou hast only the one apple and a bit of ale. If they desires so many blessings, thou should give better offerings.”  
  
Eddard Stark just about jumped out of his skin when he looked over and saw a naked woman going through the satchel he’d brought from the kitchens. Only, on second examination, Eddard realized that this was no mortal woman: she had long brown hair from which poked two wolflike ears, and sprouted a long furry brown tail with a white tip. When she smiled at Eddard, he spied two sharp fangs.  
  
“Goddess, you honor me with your presence,” Eddard gasped, and made to prostrate himself.  
  
“Do not rise, my loyal wolf. Let thy pup sleep. She has many trials ahead of her,” the old goddess said, taking a bite out of the apple and chewing noisily, her tail wagging back and forth happily as she did so. “Hmm, this is not bad. Very well. I shall answer one of thy questions: The Old Goddesses are not in charge of watching over thy daughters. However, as a favor to my good friend Aqua, I did agree to host them in mine lands. And, of course, Winter Is Coming.”  
  
“Winter is coming,” Eddard echoed, feeling as though the foundations upon which his world was built were being destroyed at a single stroke. True, he had always prayed to the Old Goddesses, but they did not take such an active role. Not in living memory, at least.  
  
The wolf goddess took out the flask of ale, popped the cork, and chugged it, letting out a satisfied sigh. “As for thy next question, I cannot see what will happen in Southron lands. But, for the Winter that approaches, even the might of Winterfell and the Night’s Watch will not suffice. We shall need allies, Oath Holder.”  
  
“I...see,” Eddard agreed, nodding slowly. Winter. Winter was coming. His children, would they be safe?  
  
“Oh do not fear overly much; perhaps if you mortals were left to your own devices the world would truly be under threat once more, but these new goddesses of the south do so like to meddle,” the wolf goddess mused, rummaging around in the sack and pulling out some bread and cheese to eat.  
  
Realizing the goddess could likely read his mind, Eddard tried to control his racing thoughts. “You mean… my daughters...they truly were born under a dire omen sent by the Seven?”  
  
“No, just Aqua. Madoka decided Aqua could fix the mess she created,” the goddess replied as she rapidly polished off the food. She appeared to be nearly as ravenous as Komekko.  
  
“Now,” the wolf goddess said, turning toward the trees. “If your Southron mate would come out and give me the food she has brought for thee, I will grant her the blessing she desires.”  
  
Eddard felt himself flush with embarrassment as Catelyn slowly walked out from the trees, carrying a wrapped basket. Her eyes were very wide, and she was looking at the goddess with a mixture of awe, consternation, and naked jealousy.  
  
“Fear not, Lady of Rivers. I have no desire for thy mate,” the goddess said, her tail wagging slowly, eyes fixed on the basket. “Thy victuals, however, are another matter.”  
  
Looking at least a little mollified, Catelyn held out the basket, which the goddess snatched and eagerly shredded the wrapping, pulling out several steaming sausages, which she eagerly devoured. She gave a happy yipping sound, much like the direwolf pups, then nodded to Catelyn, wiping grease from her chin. “Very well. Ask for thy blessing. Though thou art one of the Seven’s followers, I shall grant thee this boon, as thou hast raised thy litter on my lands and are mate of my favored lord.”  
  
“I…” Catelyn swallowed, then slowly took a seat beside Eddard, taking his hand in hers. She smiled down at Megumin, gently putting a hand on her cheek, then looking back up at the goddess. “I ask...I ask to quicken again, goddess of the woods and fields.”  
  
Solemnly, the goddess nodded. “In exchange for thy gifts, I shall grant thee a bountiful harvest, Lady Wolf. Thy child shall be strong and healthy, and thy birthing bed easy.”  
  
“And...and keep my children and husband safe,” Catelyn blurted, blushing slightly.  
  
The goddess gave Catelyn a mischievous grin. “That was not the bargain we struck. However, as thou saw fit to bring me three more apples, I shall grant thee this other boon, provided thou agreest to a service for me.”  
  
“Anything,” Catelyn agreed quickly.  
  
“Let thy mate take up his burden of honor to his old packmate. Young Prince Kazuma will have need of the Wisdom of Wolves ere long. Thou, however, must remain in my lands: for I cannot grant thee my boon should thou wander'st far from my den. Thou shalt keep thy two youngest as well, for they too shall be needed here. The others must go with their sire; even thy heir. Worry not: There shall still be three Starks in Winterfell, and our ancient bargain shall hold true.”  
  
“What of Jon?” Eddard blurted.  
  
The goddess sighed. “Tell thy mate, oath holder of mine. Secrets do not become a wolf. Then, grant him his request and make him my sword and shield, sworn to me. He is thy blood, but his is the Song of Ice and Fire.”  
  
“Jon Snow is not the heir of Winterfell!” Cately snarled, something deadly flashing in her eyes.  
  
“Be at peace, she wolf,” the goddess said, her tone amused as she took out the skin of wine in the basket. She quickly drained it, then nodded. “Thy offerings are spent, my work is done. Send away thy cub and mine, and mate here in my sight, and our bargain shall be held fulfilled in the light of the sun.”  
  
With that, the goddess walked over to the heart tree, and, in a single bound, leapt into its open mouth, leaving behind only the scent of freshly harvested grain.  
  
“She was…” Catelyn whispered, her eyes wide.  
  
“One of the Old Goddesses,” Eddard said softly, gently shaking Megumin.  
  
“Hmmm?” Megumin yawned, smacking her lips and blinking bleary eyes. “Daddy?”  
  
“Your punishment is at an end,” Eddard told his daughter, picking her up and gently kissing her on the forehead. “Go now to the kitchens and get some breakfast. Tell Fat Tom at the entrance not to allow anyone else in until your lady mother and I depart.”  
  
“Ok. Sorry, dad, mom. I’ll be good,” Megumin yawned. “Come on, Chomusuke. I’m hungry.”  
  
The black direwolf with the odd red marking on her forehead shook herself, then sprang to her feet, eagerly following after her mistress.  
  
Eddard waited a moment, then sighed heavily. “That is not the first time a goddess has visited us.”  
  
“It’s been nearly eight years since Aqua and Eris last appeared,” Cately agreed, shuddering slightly. “Ned, what sort of world do we live in now, where goddesses walk among mortals, and speak openly to them?”  
  
“A strange and new one. Winter is Coming,” Eddard repeated, and felt the deadly frost in those words. John Aryn was dead, possibly murdered if Catelyn’s sister’s cryptic note were true. And he was to go south to be Hand of the King. Then, he steeled himself. He took a deep breath, gripping Catelyn’s hand. She pressed into him, but he shook his head. “Cat. I...the goddess is wise. There is a secret I have kept from you, for fifteen years now.”  
  
Catelyn bristled slightly, looking wounded. She’d always wanted to know, but hadn’t asked him since that terrible day where he’d raised his voice in anger at her, nearly raised his fist. “Jon’s mother was Lyanna. My sister.”  
  
For a moment, Catelyn could only gape at him. “But then, he is not-”  
  
“He was not born Jon Snow. By rights, he is Aegon Targaryen. His father was Rhaegar Targaryen. He took Lyanna as his second wife. I claimed Jon as my bastard, to protect him. I...I swore I would tell no one. But the goddesses hold sway over the oaths of mortal men…”  
  
“But why...why not tell me?” Catelyn whispered, tears coming into her eyes. She shook her head, even as Eddard gently wiped them away with his thumb. “You gave your oath to Lyanna before she died, didn’t you?”  
  
Eddard could only nod, unable to find further words, tears filling his own eyes as the pain of the lie he had lived for fifteen years was opened again like an old scar ripped open. Somehow, Catelyn’s mouth found his.  
  
“My poor, foolish, honorable husband. Do not let your honor be the death of you, Eddard Stark. I love you too much for that.”  
  
From the tree, two wolfish eyes watched as her Bonded Warden took his mate, and she muttered the words of fertility and binding that would make their child her own. Those Southron goddesses had meddled in her affairs and lands long enough. Time she took back her pack as her own. After all, she had plans as well. They didn’t call her the Wise Wolf for nothing.  
  
========================================================================  
  
“You can’t sit there, that’s Vanir’s spot,” Yunyun called helpfully.  
  
Kazuma paused in the act of sitting at the breakfast table. Tyrion had come by and informed him there was absolutely no room service in Winterfell, and that he would be required to sit at table if he wanted to eat. Since eating came in a close second to napping the list of Kazuma’s favorite things to do, he figured he’d haul his carcass out of bed.  
  
“Who’s Vanir?” Kazuma asked, eyeing Yunyun suspiciously. There clearly was no one sitting in the chair, which had a plate full of food at it.  
  
“He’s my friend! Can’t you see him?” Komekko pipped up from the other side of the empty spot.  
  
“No, there’s no one there,” Kazuma grumbled. The only thing in the chair was a black and white doll. He glanced around frowning. If he couldn’t sit here then...the other other spot was by Megumin. He tried to pull out the empty chair and sit down anyway, but it seemed to be stuck. He jerked it again, grunting with effort.  
  
“Vanir says if you don’t leave his chair alone he’s going to be mad at you,” Komekko told Kazuma seriously, giving him a disapproving look. From underneath the chair, there was a low growl, and Kazuma jerked back. He realized he must have been slamming the chair into Komekko’s direwolf, who was pitch black save for two glowing amber eyes.  
  
“Hoost is a good puppy, he won’t bite if you’re nice,” Komekko declared, giving Kazuma a big smile. So did Hoost, only his involved a lot more teeth.  
  
“Er, nice doggy?” Kazuma chuckled, then hurried away and slid into the chair by Megumin. She gave him a baleful look, until her older brother Robb elbowed her.  
  
“I’m...sorry,” Megumin ground out.  
  
“Huh? For what?” Kazuma asked, pausing in the act of serving himself some breakfast.  
  
“For my unlady-like behavior,” Megumin half spat.  
  
“Oh. Whatever. At least you weren’t boring. If more girls acted like you do maybe they’d be more interesting. The rest of them just want to talk about dumb stuff like how handsome I am or some nonsense. I’ve got a mirror, I’m not as ugly as my uncle but I’m not that good looking.”  
  
“That’s a crude thing to say about Lord Tyrion,” Robb said, frowning at Kazuma.  
  
Hook, line, and sinker! “Tyrion? The ladies can’t get enough of him. I was talking about Uncle Jamie. No one will touch him with a ten foot pole!”  
  
From across the high table, Tyrion let out a chuckle and raised his goblet to Kazuma, who returned the gesture with a wink. Robb, for part, was gaping at Kazuma, but Megumin was snorting and ducking under the table as she giggled. After a moment, Robb nodded to Kazuma, a slow grin spreading over his face.  
  
“Anyway,” Kazuma eyed Megumin, who was still sniggering as she sat back up. “I guess I’m sorry or whatever for not treating you like a lady.”  
  
In response, Megumin made a very rude noise with her lips, which made Yunyun blush in embarrassment and Robb develop another coughing fit.  
  
“Megumin’s not a lady, she’s an Adventurer!” Komekko piped up.  
  
“Indeed, I am no blushing brainless beauty, but a battle hardened veterain of many campaigns! Soon, my fame shall encompass not just the north, but the entire Seven Kingdoms! I have slain many a foul beast already!”  
  
“What, like a grumpkin, maybe a few snarks?” Kazuma asked, allowing a smirk to wash over his face.  
  
“Oh, you mock me, Southron fool, but already I have drunk of the blood of my foes!” Megumin boasted.  
  
“Megumin, you threw up when we had to go see dad chop off that poor deserter's head,” Yunyun pointed out. “Jon had to carry you back because you were crying. After you begged and begged for us to go with the boys.”  
  
“You were crying too, and Robb had to carry you!” Megumin snapped. She turned to glare at Kazuma. “Don’t you dare mock me!”  
  
“Hey, I ain’t exactly one to make fun for that,” Kazuma said, making a face. “Uncle Jamie made me go to an execution once. Not my idea of a good time. Ugly old bastard.”  
  
“Well, perhaps you’ll enjoy one today,” a breezy voice said, and Kazuma felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. He winced, and looked up to see none other than the smiling face of what even Kazuma had to admit was his rather good looking uncle. “I’ve heard that Robb here is quite the swordsman, as is Jon Snow. I don’t suppose you two mind showing my nephew the yard, would you? He’s been rather lax in his sword practice, and I would so like to see him learn the techniques of other houses.”  
  
Kazuma flushed. “Listen, I’m not-”  
  
“Your lady mother informs me that you would be _happy_ to do so, my prince, else His Grace your father might need his memory jogged about certain events.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare,” Kazuma gasped, half turning to glare at his uncle.  
  
“I think an ugly old bastard that no one would touch with a ten foot pole might dare a lot of things, nephew. I’m certain they won’t be too rough on you. After all, it’s not as though you assaulted their sister and brought her honor into question, is it?” Jamie laughed, and strode away.  
  
Swallowing, Kazuma put on his best smile and turned towards Robb, who was exchanging an evil grin with his baseborn brother at the lower table. “My most gracious Lord Stark, I’m certain we can all be friends here…”  
  
“Yes! We should be friends!” Yunyun said eagerly, leaning forward as her red eyes glowed. Kazuma shied away as he felt Robb’s iron grip tighten on his shoulder.  
  
“Yunyun, I think Myrcella was saying how much she would like to practice needle work with you later, and maybe play with Lady. She seems quite taken with your wolf,” Robb purred, his tone soft and deadly.  
  
“Really?! Oh, I have to go find her, we’re going to be best friends!” Yunyun declared, and hurried away.  
  
“I just want you to know that, if you kill me, it’s probably treason or something,” Kazuma groaned.  
  
“Why, my prince, who said anything about killing you?” Robb gasped, putting a hand to his heart. “We merely wished to express our...appreciation, for how you have treated our sister.”  
  
A short while later, Kazuma found himself in padded leathers with a wooden short sword in one hand, and a shield in the other.  
  
“Just so you know, this is the sort of thing I pay you for, Sandor,” Kazuma called as a grinning Jon stepped into the ring.  
  
“You don’t bloody well pay me, your mother does, and she thinks you could do with a good drubbing,” Sandor said, then spat into the ground.  
  
“I shall remember this treasonous act,” Kazuma vowed. “When I am King, I will remember my friends, and who turned their back on me in my hour of need.”  
  
“Kick his butt, Big Bro!” Tommen shouted eagerly from the sidelines.  
  
Kazuma half turned to Tommen, an incredulous expression on his face. Jon was three years his senior and both taller and with longer arms and legs. There was no way he could-  
  
Something triggered in Kazuma’s head, and he slid to the side like a greased pig, barely dodging Jon’s blow. “Oh thank Eris,” Kazuma groaned in relief. “My Luck’s in today.”  
  
“I think your luck’s just run out, your highness,” Jon said, a wicked grin on his face. It wasn’t often that a bastard got to duel the crown prince, but as Uncle Jamie and his damned mother had given the match their blessing, Kazuma couldn’t very well wiggle out of it. Besides, he’d have felt terrible if he’d used the circumstances of their birth to get out of something. Jon couldn’t help it anymore than Kazuma could have if their situations were reversed.  
  
Jon came on again, and Kazuma flung his shield at the older boy. That made Jon take half a step back in shock, raising his own barricade to block the projectile. Which was when Kazuma slid around to the side and jabbed Jon in the back, aiming for the kidney.  
  
“Ow!” Jon cried, and scrambled away, his expression pained.  
  
“Point to the prince,” the old knight, Ser Rod, or whatever his name was, called. “Reset.”  
  
Grimacing, Jon kicked Kazuma’s shield back to him, but he just kicked it back towards Tommen, who picked up the shield eagerly. Jon raised an eyebrow at Kazuma, but the prince just shrugged. “Never liked that thing slowing me down anyway.”  
  
This time, Kazuma relaxed, and just let his Luck do all the work for him. Some days it was in, some days it was out, but right now, Kazuma was the luckiest son of a bitch in the Seven Kingdoms, and he knew it. He bobbed and weaved, dancing away from Jon, and holding his sword in a one handed grip, the other hand raised behind him as he faced the other boy in a sideways stance. No one had ever taught Kazuma how to fight like this, and it irritated both his father and uncle to no end when he did it, but they weren’t here right now, so he didn’t care.  
  
After a minute or so, Jon started to grow frustrated, his attacks growing more reckless. Although he was still disciplined and maintained his form, there were more openings. So Kazuma struck, moving in with a flick of his practice sword. Wrist, wrist, hand, and Jon dropped his sword and-  
  
The older boy’s shield came around, and Kazuma realized he’d just fallen into a trap. It smacked him dead on in the nose and he staggered back as he felt his luck drain away. Jon bent to grab his sword, and Kazuma leaned over as well, acting as though he were more hurt than he was. Jon took advantage of the opening, and Kazuma jerked up, throwing a handful of dirt in the other boy’s eyes. While Jon was blinded, Kazma’s sword darted under his raised guard, poking the other boy in the thigh.  
  
“Point again to the prince,” Ser Rodrik said, sounding amusing. “You fight like a Bravosi, your highness. Where did the king find a Water Dancer to tutor you?”  
  
“A what now?” Kazuma gasped, putting a hand gingerly to his nose. He tweaked it, and sighed in relief when he felt that it wasn’t broken.  
  
Ser Rodrik’s bushy white eyebrows shot up, and he stroked his mustache. “That stance, and your style...I could have sworn you’d tutored under a master Water Dancer. Masters of the blade they are. They fight with swords alone, only lightly armored, but they are a terror in a duel. Not a match for a knight in plate on the field of battle, you understand; no room to maneuver. But one on one...well, I’ve seen experienced knights humiliated facing them.”  
  
“I dunno, just feels right, you know?” Kazuma said with a shrug. He eyed Jon, who was looking at him sourly. He really didn’t want to piss this guy off; they were supposed to stay in Winterfell for a few weeks, and Kazuma just didn’t have the energy for a grudge. “That was a slick move with the shield though, Big J. Thought you damn near broke my nose for me. Gotta remember that.”  
  
Jon blinked, and seemed to relax. “Big J?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m not so hot with names. I’d forget my own if they didn’t put it on my smallclothes.”  
  
That got Jon and Robb to both laugh, and Kazuma noticed Sir Rod stroking his mustache rather vigorously to hide a smile of his own. That made Kazuma relax himself. It was hard to hate someone you shared a laugh with.  
  
“I think I’ve had enough for now,” Jon chuckled, and turned to hand his sword and shield off to Robb. “Let’s see how you fare against the eldest Stark.”  
  
“Ah, you see, I have a cunning plan for defeating this next challenger,” Kazuma said arily, raising his sword.  
  
“Oh, and what’s that?” Robb asked, his tone amused.  
  
“Tag team, tag team!” Kazuma cried, and dashed over, tossing the practice sword at Sandor.  
  
“Oh come now, is that how the prince really handles a noble foe?” Robb called.  
  
Kazuma peaked out from behind Sandor. “Heck yeah it is! You’re even bigger than Big J! I’m not stupid. Pick on someone your own size!”  
  
“He’s a full head taller than me,” Robb said, looking incredulously up at Sandor, who hadn’t budged an inch.  
  
“Really?” Kazuma walked out, frowning at Sandor. He then back peddled until he was next to Robb, and measured the difference in their heights. “By Eris, he’s right! You are a full head taller than me! Clearly, this is a fair fight!”  
  
“If you are too cowardly to face my brother, perhaps you shall consent to face a challenge from the Foremost Genius of the House of Stark!” Megumin cried, and jumped out from behind the stables, wielding an arming sword in both her hands.  
  
“Hey now, no need to get dumb,” Kazuma said, backing away. Megumin grinned and advanced, but this time, Sandor did move.  
  
“I don’t think so, little wolf,” he growled, scowling down at Megumin as he put himself between her and Kazuma. “His Highness receiving his just desserts in the yard is one thing. Coming at him with naked steel is another.”  
  
“Quite so,” Sir Rodrik snapped, grabbing Megumin by the collar and pinning her arms to her side. She squealed, but he easily disarmed her before dropping the irate girl to the ground. “There shall be no naked steel in my practice yard, especially not from you, young lady. Only Lord Robb and Jon Snow are ready for such a thing, and then only at need.”  
  
“Why, because I’m a girl?” Megumin snapped, glaring at Sir Rodrik.  
  
“No, dummy, it’s because neither of us is strong or experienced enough to trust with steel!” Kazuma said, grabbing his practice blade back from Sandor and striding towards Megumin. Robb made to move, but Megumin sprang right up to Kazuma, her nostril’s flaring and red eyes practically glowing in the early morning light.  
  
“Well they won’t even let me use a sword, so how the heck am I supposed to be experienced?!” Megumin demanded.  
  
Kazuma rolled his eyes. “Fine, here. Take this.”  
  
“Ha!” Megumin grabbed the sword and swung at Kazuma, only for him to duck under it and then slap at her arm, making her drop the practice blade.  
  
“See? You’re terrible. You go waving around a real sword and the first person you’ll hurt is you. Do you know how long my dad and uncle made me wave around one of these stupid things before they let me have Masamune?” Kazuma demanded, poking Megumin in the chest.  
  
“I don’t know, because they don’t let girls have swords! It’s not fair, you’re a boy, they let you have all the fun you want!” Megumin wailed, tears coming into her eyes. Robb and Jon again made to move forward, but Kazuma picked up the fallen weapon and passed it back to Megumin.  
  
“Well, I am a firm believer in gender equality. Which means I will totally drop kick your ass if you pick a fight with me again, we clear?”  
  
“I was winning anyway,” Megumin sniffed, but held her sword up again. This time, away from Kazuma, and eyeing him sideways. “Just you wait! I’ll be ten times the knight you’ll be!”  
  
“No, no. You’re not some knight. Knights are dumb. Don’t fight like knights,” Kazuma told her, grabbing Megumin’s arm and forcing her to assume a one handed stance like he used.  
  
“Hear hear,” Sandor rumbled.  
  
“Knights are dumb,” Tommen echoed seriously.  
  
“What?! No! Knights are cool! They go on quests, and slay monsters, and-”  
  
“Get their asses killed all the time by people who don’t run about in gleaming mail and aren’t afraid to fight dirty. You think I could have beat your brother if I fought all honorably?” Kazuma demanded, pointing to Jon. That made the other boy start, and Robb’s eyes go wide in surprise.  
  
“...yes,” Megumin muttered stubbornly. Both she and Kazuma were oblivious to the ramifications of the crown prince acknowledging a bastard as Megumin’s brother.  
  
“Well, you’re wrong. If I’d come at him in the same old stupid way, he’d have kicked my ass. He’s older, stronger, and probably better than me if for no other reason than he looks like the sort of dumbass who ENJOYS going outside and getting all sweaty.”  
  
Megumin did not contest this point, instead allowing Kazuma to fix her stance to something he approved of.  
  
“Right now, you’re at a lot of disadvantages already, so you can’t afford to fight like some stuffy old knight,” Kazuma told her, stepping back. “You gotta fight to WIN, not to show how brave and noble you are or some crap like that.”  
  
“What kind of disadvantages?” Megumin growled.  
  
“Well, you’re short, not very strong, and you ain’t had a whole lot of practice like you said. I don’t think swinging around a broomhandle whenever your mom isn’t looking counts,” Kazuma said, planting his hands on his hips.  
  
By Megumin’s dark expression, Kazuma figured he had her number, so he continued. “So you have to take all that, and turn it into an ADVANTAGE, see? Yo, R Dawg, fix me up,” Kazuma said, snapping his fingers at Robb.  
  
For a wonder, Robb tossed Kazuma his sword. “Old goddesses and new preserve us, he even talks like her.”  
  
“Whatever you say, ‘R Dawg,’” Jon said, a very amused expression on his face.  
  
“Oh, just you wait until I tell Lord Umber you’re ‘Big J,’” Robb shot back, but Kazuma ignored the byplay.  
  
“Now, normally, in a fight, the little guy, or in your case, girl, is on the backfoot,” Kazuma explained. “But, there are advantages to being small. You’re harder to hit. It takes less energy for you to move about. And you are closer to the ground.”  
  
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Megumin demanded.  
  
“Hey, Tommy, someone big and scary comes at you, what do you do?”  
  
“Get Mr. The Hound or you, Big Bro,” Tommen replied without hesitation.  
  
Kazuma rolled his eyes. “They got you cornered.”  
  
“Throw dirt in their eyes and kick ‘em in the balls,” Tommen answered seriously.  
  
Ser Rodrik let out a startled bark of laughter, which he rapidly disguised as a cough. Robb and Jon, on the other hand, did not bother with the coughs, instead dissolving into hysterics as they leaned on one another.  
  
Megumin gave Kazuma an incredulous stare. “That’s your sword fighting lesson?”  
  
“Damn right it is,” Kazuma agreed. “First rule of Fighting With Kazuma: Fight Dirty. Alright, now, I’m going to come at you and-”  
  
Megumin threw a spray of dirt in Kazuma’s eyes, and the next thing he knew, everything was pain, and he flopped to the ground. “Medic,” he wheezed. “Tell my mom and dad I love them, I think I’m dying. Oh goddesses, why did you kick me in the boys?”  
  
“You told me to,” Megumin giggled, crouched down over Kazuma, a wide grin on her face.  
  
“You win this round, you damn chuuni lunatic. But I’ll get you next time,” Kazuma gasped.  
  
“Oh shut up, you stupid NEET. You’re just pretending. It can’t hurt THAT bad.”  
  
“Oh, trust me, sister, it definitely does,” Jon chuckled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh goddesses, what did you expect to happen, your highness?”  
  
“Oh go piss into the wind,” Kazuma groaned, the stars slowly fading from his vision. Which meant he got a wonderful view of his mother’s horrified expression as she froze when she rounded the corner.  
  
“My precious Kazuma!” Cersei wailed, running over.  
  
Kazuma groaned and closed his eyes. Perfect. This was just perfect.  
  
“What have these vicious northern brutes done to you!?” Cersei demanded, her hands running over Kazuma. “You, Hound! Why did you not protect my son, your prince!? Are you not his sworn shield?”  
  
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but he damn well asked for it. Practically begged,” Sandor stated matter of factly.  
  
“Mom,” Kazuma groaned as Cersei dragged him up, hugging him to her chest.  
  
“Don’t worry, I shall talk to your father. We shall depart at once! I will not stand for my eldest son to-”  
  
“Mom!” Kazuma snapped, pushing her away. “We were training! Come on! You know accidents happen! I’m not a baby anymore! You want to mother someone, go bother Tommen! Megumin just got in a lucky hit, that’s all!”  
  
“You!” Cersei snarled, rounding on Megumin, who jerked back at the emerald fury burning in the queen’s eyes. “This is not the first time you have savaged my son! Robert was too gentle, he-”  
  
“Oh back off, mom. Do you seriously think I can’t protect myself from her if I want to?” Kazuma demanded, putting himself between his mother and Megumin. “Look, I was just showing her how to fight, and, well, she, er, well, she fought back better than I thought.”  
  
“You were what?” Cersei hissed, stepping back from Kazuma. “Her?! How to fight?!”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I said!” Kazuma snapped, folding his arms over his chest and glaring up at his mother. Dammit, why was she still taller than him?! He was twelve already!  
  
“The training yard is no place for a proper lady,” Cersei sneered, her tone a vicious mockery.  
  
“Well, then what does that make you?” Kazuma demanded, his tone cold.  
  
Cersei flinched as though she’d just been struck, and her wounded expression immediately made Kazuma regret his words. For years, he’d gotten along just fine with his mother, even enjoyed her affection and constant protection of him from anything that might make him uncomfortable.  
  
But lately… Kazuma had started to resent it. He didn’t know why, exactly. He should have welcomed his mother rescuing him from the training yard. He’d nearly had his nose broken, and his balls still ached. But her going after Megumin, and acting like that in front of Robb and Jon, not to mention Tommen and Sandor… it made him feel like a child, and he hated that.  
  
“Cersei.”  
  
All eyes turned to Kazuma’s uncle Jamie, who stepped forward, putting a hand on her arm. However, it was Kazuma who Jamie looked at, cold anger in his eyes. “Your Highness. Is that anyway to treat your lady mother?”  
  
Licking his lips, Kazuma flushed. “I...I apologize, mother. I was...hasty in my words. Forgive me.”  
  
Cersei still looked hurt, but she jerked a nod. “I...I forget you are nearly a man grown, Kazuma. Perhaps you are too old for a mother’s love.”  
  
“No, mom, I-” Kazuma sighed, passing his sword to Megumin. “Sorry. We’ll practice more later.”  
  
Then he took his mother’s arm, and escorted her from the training yard. Tommen hurried up to Kazuma’s side, looking frightened and worried, until Jamie picked up the young prince. Sandor followed behind, ever the faithful hound.  
  
Inwardly, Kazuma’s emotions were a mess, but he made himself say, “I’m sorry, mom. You… you know I love you, right?”  
  
That made his mother smile at him, and she patted Kazuma’s arm. “Yes. I love you as well, Kazuma. With all my heart. Just...remember who your friends are. And who your family is.”  
  
Kazuma snuck a look back at Megumin, who was still standing there, practice sword clutched in her arms. For a moment he felt...he didn’t know. It wasn’t a familiar emotion, really. It was sort of like what he felt for Myrcella or Tommen, that need to protect and that warm fondness he felt for both his siblings. A bit like the love he really did feel for his mother especially, and even the respect and desire for approval he felt for his father.  
  
But this...this was something else. Kazuma wasn’t sure what. Only that when he saw Megumin...it was like he was remembering something, only, he’d never felt this way before.  
  
It was probably just his balls aching still. Stupid chuunibyou brat.  
  
“Mom, what’s a chuunibyou?” Kazuma asked, mulling the word over in his mind as they made their way to the apartments the Lannisters had claimed.  
  
Cersei blinked, frowning at her son. “I’ve never heard that word before. Where did you hear it? It almost sounds like something from the Summer Isles, or Yi Ti. Jamie, have you heard the term?”  
  
“I can’t say that I have,” Jamie admitted. “Why do you ask, nephew?”  
  
“I just...I dunno. What about NEET?”  
  
Cersei laughed. “That would be tidy, which your chambers rarely are unless the maids have been at them lately.”  
  
“No, not like that. It’s...an insult, I think?”  
  
“You certainly behave that way at times,” the queen said, ruffling Kazuma’s hair and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll fetch a maester to see to your hurts. You lie down. Those Starks were far too rough on you, my little lion.”  
  
“Stag,” Kazuma muttered as he was ushered to his bed. He’d started to hate being compared to a lion, even if he did look more the Lannister than the Baratheon. Part of it was his desperate need for his father’s rarely given approval. If Robert heard he’d gotten his ass kicked by a girl…  
  
Kazuma just lay down to take a nap. His head was starting to hurt as much as his testicles. He’d ask Tyrion about those weird words later. He tried to sleep, but for some reason, he kept thinking about how he’d felt, looking at Megumin. He shuddered. Things were changing. And Kazuma wasn’t sure if he liked that.  
  
 _Cast of Characters:  
  
Holo the Wise Wolf as; The Old Gods  
Chomusuke as; Nymeria the Direwolf  
Eris as; The Smith? Look, there really isn’t a 1-1 correlation here.  
Madokami as; The Father/Chief Goddess  
Hoost as; Summer the Dire Wolf  
Vanir as; Komekko’s Invisible Friend?  
Jon Snow as; Big J  
Robb Stark as; R Dawg  
Ned Stark as; World’s Best Dad  
Catelyn Stark as; Expecting  
Jamie and Cersei as; Rehabilitating  
And various others  
With the cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as increasingly different people (and we’re just getting started!)_


	3. It's Always the Cute Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lannisters are trying to play 4D chess, but Komekko is playing Calvinball.

_Written and directed by: Full Paragon_

_Produced by: The Grand Cogitator_

_This Chapter brought to you by: Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. When your invisible friend outgrows even your imagination, send them to Fosters. Now streaming on fanfics._

_A Clash of NEETs is part of a complete breakfast. Now fortified with extra Cosmic Horror! Just don’t think about it too hard._

_Chapter 3: It’s Always the Cute Ones_

Komekko was hungry. That was not a reflection on the current state of her stomach so much as a general fact of life. No matter what the hour of the day or night, Komekko always wanted more food. Maester Luwin was unable to explain how a seven year old girl was able to eat an entire suckling pig and have room left over for much more, but he had carefully calculated how much nutriment Komekko needed, and both the servants, her siblings, and her parents did their best to carefully monitor Komekko’s food intake and prevent her from gorging herself to death.

Little did they know that was actually physically impossible, but at the same time Komekko could have eaten all day and night and still been hungry, so at least they were being practical.

Maester Luwin’s efforts did not prevent Komekko from constantly plotting new and creative ways for her to attain more food. Her favorite practice was climbing up to the top of Winterfell and catching pigeons, raiding bird nests for eggs and chicks, and even snagging the occasional rat. After witnessing the horror that was her young daughter eating a raw unplucked bird, Lady Catelyn had issued orders that whatever Komekko brought to the kitchen would be cooked for her, over and above her usual rations. That suited Komekko just fine, as she much preferred cooked meat to raw.

“Sorry, Hoost, people don’t like it when doggies climb,” Kommeko said, looking down at her direwolf, who was whining and had his fore paws up on the stone of the building. Hoost started to jump up in the air to land beside Komekko, but she shook her head. “No flying neither. Maester Luwin says wolves can’t fly. So you behave, OK?”

Hoost whined, but nodded, then set his head between his paws and lay down.

“Good boy!” Komekko pulled out one of the snacks she had secreted about her person and tossed it to Hoost, who jumped up to snag it out of the air. She giggled, and turned back to her climbing. “Come on, Vanir! I don’t care if it gets your clothes dirty, we’re getting some dinners!”

If anyone had been watching Komekko climb, it would appear to them that she had the hand of a stuffed cloth doll gripped in hers. The doll seemed to have a black and white mask, with eyes of the opposite color sewn in neat needle work, and an impish grin on a skin toned face. The body was all in black, with white legs, though stitching made it seem as though Vanir the Doll was wearing some sort of formal suit.

Vanir, as far as the residents of Winterfell knew, had first appeared about the time Komekko had started to speak. One morning, the doll had simply been in her crib with her, with neither her wet nurse nor any of Komekko’s siblings knowing where the doll had come from. He was her constant companion, and Komekko would often describe him as though he were not a doll but a living person.

So firm was Komekko in her insistence that Vanir was alive that her Lady Mother had even acceded to having a place set at the table for Vanir. Most people just figured this was Komekko’s way of getting an extra portion at meal times, and hoped that Komekko would soon grow out of her obsession with her toy.

However, to one gifted with True Sight, they would not have seen Komekko lugging a stuffed doll up the wall, but rather that someone was climbing with her. This individual appeared to be a gangly gentleman dressed in a twin tailed suit of rather anachronistic design with white trousers and a yellow neckcloth, and white cotton gloves complete with well blacked formal leather boots.

“Mistress, moi must again object to this most demeaning method of traversal. Moi could simply teleport us to where the fowl thou seeks make their lairs, or perhaps simply lure them with a simple spell.”

Vanir, of course, was very much not imaginary, nor a doll. He was simply a gentleman, and had no desire to disturb the residents of Winterfell with his presence. Dukes of Hell did not drop in unannounced, that was far too impolite. He chose to appear as a doll to most mortal eyes because he found the entire thing rather droll, especially when the mortals tried to explain to themselves how a child's toy wandered about the castle of its own power at times. Their rationalizations and ensuing despair were most filling.

“Nope, no magic! Maester Luwin says magic is bad, and only naughty people use magic, and we’re good!” Komekko informed her familiar. “We’re gonna get a nice fat pigeon and some eggs, and take ‘em to Turnip and Gage to cook ‘em up so we can eat ‘em!”

Vanir politely declined to point out yet again that as a demon, he had no need of mortal food. His mistress was rather queer this cycle, but she had recalled the proper spells to bring and bind him yet again, so alas, he was once more forced to do her bidding. Besides, now that the foolish boy from Japan had appeared, Vanir was quite certain that those idiot goddesses were going to arrive, and that would mean Vanir would have an opportunity to harass them again.

This morning, Komekko decided to stalk her prey by the First Keep. The castle was mostly deserted, as nearly everyone had gone out hunting with the King. Komekko hoped they brought her back something yummy, as Kazuma had promised she could have whatever he caught. She didn’t know why, but Komekko really liked the funny prince as soon as she had met him. She was pretty sure he was like her Big Sisters and herself, in that he didn’t really belong here, but Komekko didn't mind. Her mommy and daddy were very nice this time and gave her lots to eat, so she would be good.

As they gathered up eggs, several of which Komekko sucked from the shell raw, Vanir made a sudden face. “Mistress, moi must beg that we depart for other parts. Two of those Southron mortals are behaving in a most disgusting manner below us.”

“Are they being bad?” Kommeko asked curiously.

Vanir shrugged. “Mayhaps, for all the lifetimes moi has spent as thy familiar, moi struggles to remember what sort of morality the mortals of this place follow. Is it forbidden to lay with thy sister here?”

“No, I sleep in Megumin and Yunyun’s bed all the time if it’s cold,” Komekko said with a shake of her head.

“Ah. And it is well to take another man’s wife as thine own?”

Komekko considered this. “I don’t think so. Septa Cecily might think it’s OK but she’s weird and Maester Luwin says Axis Septa’s don’t know how to be good very well.”

“Oh, well, then moi supposes they are indeed sinning. Lust was never a concern of mois. Such a base emotion is for succubi.”

“That means they’re being bad! We gotta make ‘em stop!” Komekko declared. Then she grinned. “Or else they’re gonna have to pay us!”

Vanir shrugged, and indicated the chambers where the two mortals were rutting. By the time Komekko clambered down to the window, they were finishing, which at least cut down on the filthy emotions pouring from the two morals.

“Hey, are you being bad?” Komekko asked as she hung upside down from the window frame, her twin braids falling past her head.

The two people let out a cry and separated, and Komekko grinned. It was Kazuma’s mom and his uncle Jamie! They had lots of food. Komekko’s mouth began to water slightly, but she wiped at her mouth and forced herself to focus.

“What-what are you doing here, child?” the Queen asked, pulling away from her brother and covering herself with her clothes. Yep. She was acting guilty! Score!

“Making sure you’re not being bad,” Komekko said seriously. “Because if you are, I might have to tell.”

This was her usual blackmail scheme: Often, Komekko would come across people doing various indiscretions. She’d caught Theon doing the naked wrestling with a lot of girls like these two had been, and he still owed her lots of dinners. He always laughed and paid up, which meant Komekko never had to tell anyone he was being bad. She often found guards sleeping at their posts, or her sisters (usually Megumin) doing something they shouldn’t, and would demand a penance of food.

Otherwise, she’d have to suck their soul out and eat it, but that made her gassy and wasn't as tasty as real food. Being a Queen of Hell was hard sometimes, so Kommeko much preferred just being a girl.

“Jamie...she’s seen us,” the Queen gasped, still trying to cover herself as her brother pulled on his trousers and tunic.

“Yep! Saw the whole thing. You were being bad,” Komekko said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest, despite the fact that she was still hanging upside down. Vanir, of course, was holding her ankles: she wasn’t using magic, that was bad, and she was good. Mommy said so.

“She’s a little girl, Cersei,” Jamie Lannister groaned, looking pained as he walked towards Komekko. He pulled her down from Vanir’s grip, spinning her about and setting her back on the windowsill.

“Yep! But you’re gonna have to pay now,” Komekko said eagerly.

“Jamie...think of our children,” Cersei pleaded. “Think of me. You...you have to do it.”

“The things I do for love,” Jamie sighed. Then he pushed the startled Komekko out into thin air.

Komekko flailed her arms a bit, only for Hoost to jump up from below. He turned back into his real form, which was currently a Wolf Demon, and caught Komekko in his arms. “I got you!” Hoost cried, and then grabbed the windowsill with one arm and flung himself and Komekko back through, going back into wolf shape as he landed.

“What in the name of-” Jamie Lannister gasped, stepping back from Komekko as she burst through the window along with her direwolf. He hadn’t been able to watch her fall, but the ground was nearly 200 feet below them. She couldn’t have survived, and the wolf… Jamie eyed Hoost as the beast circled in front of his mistress, growling.

“You have been very bad,” Kommeko declared, a wide grin spreading over her face. She was going to get so much food from this! “I could have been hurt. That was not nice!”

“I…” Jamie swallowed, and looked to Cersei. But she had taken up his sword, baring the naked steel.

“Jamie. We cannot let her tell our secret. The wolf, it savaged her, you tried to save her. Kill them both.”

“Wow, you just keep being bad! That’s gonna be a lot of dinners,” Kommeko giggled, rubbing her hands.

Jamie took the sword, but didn’t say anything, his hurt eyes looking at the girl and her wolf. Then, he felt a hand on his arm as Cirsei let out a startled gasp.

“Oh foolish mortal man who hides his pain behind a smile and his love behind his duty, thou would be making an error most grievous to take up thy sword against my mistress.”

Slowly, Jamie turned to see the grinning face of Vanir. He realized it was the doll, now a full sized man, come to life, and he felt his blood run cold. With a cry, Jamie drove the sword right through Vanir’s sternum.

Or at least, where a sternum would have been. If Vanir was anything even remotely resembling human.

“Oh-ho-ho! What delicious despair!” Vanir chuckled, looking down at the blade embedded in his chest. He tapped Jamie on the shoulder with a finger, and the man was flung back into Cersei, who was nearly bowled over as she tried to catch her brother. The two of them staggered, but managed to stay on their feet.

“Now,” Vanir said, the shadows of the room seeming to lengthen as the sunlight outside was suddenly robbed of brightness and warmth. “Thou hast attempted to murder the mistress. Moi simply cannot stand for this.”

From the shadows, things began to emerge and crawl. Dolls, exactly like the one Komekko carried around, only these giggled with eerie voices, and began to trundle towards Jamie and Cersei.

“Vanir!” Komekko cried, and walked over and smacked the Duke of Hell on his rear, making him cry out and jump slightly. “No magic! Mommy said so!”

“But this villain has attempted to murder thee! There must be retribution!” Vanir protested.

“Vanir, I’m seven. Stop using big words, they make my head hurt,” Komekko complained. Then she turned to the terrified Lannisters. “Well. You’ve been very bad. I think murder is wrong, ‘cause it’s killing people. Right, Vanir?”

“Most mortals do tend to believe that, yes,” Vanir agreed reluctantly. He snapped his fingers, and the dolls dissolved to dust and shadows.

“Well, we’re not gonna kill you, because we’re good! But, you are gonna get spankings for being bad,” Komekko stated. “If mommy and daddy find out...daddy’s got a really big sword. Bigger than yours.”

“Indeed,” Vanir agreed, absently plucking Jamie’s sword from his chest, then running a finger over the cut in his suit, which instantly repaired itself.

“But, I’m nice,” Komekko told the two Lannisters, giving them a big grin. “If you promise to be good, and also give me your dinners, I won’t tell.”

“What...what are you?” Cersei gasped.

Vanir rolled his eyes. “What doest thou think we are, O woman who lusts after her own flesh and abhors her own husband?”

“You’re a demon,” Jamie whispered, his eyes very wide, trying to keep himself between Cersei and the three monsters, of which he was now very certain the Stark girl was the worst of. However, her direwolf kept circling behind him, and Jamie had a sneaking suspicion that all the swords in the world wouldn’t help him here.

“Oh-ho-ho! What succulent despair! Indeed, moi is Vanir, Duke of Hell,” the dapper demon declared, giving a formal bow.

“I’m Komekko Stark! Sometimes I’m the Devil Queen of Hell, but mostly I’m a little girl so I practice being good.”

The Dire Wolf’s mouth opened, and it spoke. “I’m Hoost. Usually I’m a Greater Demon, but I sorta got shanghaied inta bein’ a wolf spirit for a bit.”

“You’re nicer this way, Hoost, so it’s OK!” Komekko said brightly.

“You’re evil,” Cersei breathed, tears filling her eyes. “You’ll see me and my children dead, won’t you, demon! If you tell anyone what we have done here, they-”

“Don’t be silly! I like Kazuma and Myrcella and Tommen. They’re nice. And I’m not evil, I’m good!” Komekko poked Vanir. “I think we need the Contract. They’re really scared, and they’ve seen you, Vanir. I don’t want Kazuma to not like me because he knows what you are.”

“If you try to hurt my children” Jamie growled, his hands clenching into fists. He tried to never, ever think of Cersei’s children as his own, or to ever speak of such things aloud, but he thought he was certain to die in the next moment.

“You’re not listening! I’m good! Plus, they’re Yunyun’s friends and I promised to be nice,” Komekko sighed. “Vanir, give them the contract. I don’t think we’re gonna get many dinners out of this one.”

“Very well. Standard memory erasure in exchange for services at a later date, mistress?” Vanir asked.

“Yep! They’ll probably hafta remember at some point, so maybe just lock ‘em away.”

“Very good, very good. Ah! Foolish mortals! Let thy minds be at ease! For today, the Forces of Hell mean thee no ill will, for our mistress is a kind and generous Devil Queen.”

“And hungry,” Komekko added.

Vanir whipped out two parchments, which he presented to the Lannisers. “Merely sign here, and here. Thou shalt owe Mistress Komekko a favor, and also thy evening repast for a week. In exchange, moi vows on behalf of his Mistress and all the Forces of Hell, that thy secret love affair shall remain as such, or at least, that we shall breath no word of it to mortal ears. And thy troubled minds shall be eased: you will not recall our meeting”

“You mean...you’re going to keep our secret?” Jamie asked uncertainly.

“What of my son?! What about Kazuma!? What are you going to do to him!” Cersei demanded.

“Nothin’. I think he’s Megumin’s? Or Yunyun’s? I don’t know,” Komekko said with a shrug. “I’m seven; I don’t really remember. It’s more fun that way.”

“How do we know you shall keep your word? Or that you are not simply trying to steal our souls or bundle us off to the Seven Hells?” Jamie demanded.

“Because Hell is super boring. That’s why we live here! Also, daddy says you always have to tell the truth,” Komekko answered seriously.

“And as a resident of the Infernal Realms, moi is quite incapable of lying,” Vanir added. “Thou should know that we of Hell are most solicitous about keeping our contracts.”

Jamie and Cersei shared a look, then swallowed. They both took up the quills Vanir offered them, and signed.

The next thing they knew, they were both following Kommeko down the stairs as her dire wolf led the way.

“Thanks for promising to give me your dinners! I won’t tell nobody I found you playing together!” Komekko called as she began to run off.

The Lannister siblings leaned on one another, their heads spinning.

“We shall… make sure you get your food,” Jamie managed, clinging to his sister and lover.

“Good! Don’t try to break your word,” Komekko giggled, pausing and wagging a finger at Jamie. “Vanir doesn't like that!” Then she picked up her doll, clutching it in both arms, and skipped down the stairs.

“Do you think she knows?” Cersei gasped.

“No,” Jamie whispered, shaking his head. “She found us after we were already dressed. And she said she wouldn’t tell, so long as we fed her our meals.”

“I hate this,” Cersei groaned. “Why can the world not know of our love?”

“Someday, sister, someday,” Jamie promised, and kissed her gently on the lips. Then they turned and left, their confrontation forgotten.

At least for the time being.

_Cast of Characters:_

_Komekko as; Bran Stark. Or possibly the Queen of Hell. We’d ask her, but it’s her nap time._

_Vanir as; The Three Eyed Raven. And probably Hobbes the Tiger too._

_Hoost as; Summer the Direwolf, and maybe something more._

_Cecily as; Septa Mordane_

_Jamie Lannister as; Busted_

_Cersei Lanniser as: Still kind of a bitch_

_And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as Themselves (when they’re not too busy having panic attacks)_


	4. We're Going on an Adventure, You Stupid NEET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD! I shall tell you the tale of how the Crimson Demon Clan ventured forth into the GREAT AND TERRIBLE Wolfswood, where they slew many fearsome foes, and how their GLORIOUS LEADER, Megumin, Foremost Genius of the House of Stark, took that stupid NEET on an Adventure!

_ Written and directed by: Full Paragon _

_ Produced by: The Grand Cognator _

_ This Chapter brought to you by: Raycon Earbuds: for when you’re out Adventuring, but still want to listen to your sick beats to provide a suitable soundtrack to your epic acts. _

_ WARNING: This product contains chuunibyouism. Middle Schoolers, people who may become middle schoolers, and people who are allergic to AWESOME should talk to their doctor before reading this fanfic. Careful not to cut yourself on that EDGE, champ. _

_ Chapter 4: We’re going on an Adventure, you stupid NEET _

  
  


Earlier that morning, Megumin had been stalking through the castle halls. She was dressed in her riding leathers, with Chunchumaru strapped to her back and her sling tucked away in her satchel. She made her way deep into the Lion’s Den, sneaking past many vicious orcs, trolls, and other horrible monsters, until she found the door to the NEETs lair. She proceeded to bang on it, violently. 

“Wake up, Kazuma! We’re going hunting! Come on, I’ll show you where the grumpkins and snarks hide!”

There was a groan from inside the lair. “Megumin?! Do you have any idea what time it is? Go away! I’m not going hunting!”

“The sun’s up, which means you’re up, you stupid NEET! Everyone’s going!” 

“Super. I’m not. I’m staying home with Uncle Tyrion. It’s awful outside. You can get sunburned, and bugs bite you, and you get all sweaty and messy. I’m staying in bed. Later, I might read a book. If I’m feeling adventurous, I’m going down to the kitchens to get some food.”

“I thought you wanted to be a pirate or an Adventurer! You have to train if you want to do that! You can’t lay in your bed all day, Scumzuma!” Megumin shouted, and banged on the door again. 

All down the hall, doors were opening, and Lannisters were poking their heads out, glaring at Megumin. She ignored it: foolish mortals were always glaring at her. They just couldn’t appreciate greatness.

After a pause, the door opened, and a bleary eyed Kazuma glared out at her. He was dressed in a red silk robe, and had on fuzzy slippers in the shape of little stags. Megumin didn’t bother to hide her giggle. 

“What did you call me?” Kazuma growled. 

“A stupid NEET,” Megumin answered, folding her arms over her chest. 

“No, after that.”

“Scumzuma,” Megumin said proudly. She thought it was an excellent insult.

“Well, what if I called you a damn lunatic chuunibyou mage?!” Kazuma snarled, poking Megumin in the chest. 

“Then I’d say sanity is boring, and that I am not a simple mage, but an Arch Wizard of the-” Megumin paused, blinking. What was she saying again? “Um, of House Stark?”

Kazuma glared at Megumin for a moment, his jaw working. “Why do you care if I come? No one else does. My dad doesn’t even try to get me to come on hunts anymore. He knows I hate them.”

“Because he said Yunyun and me could only come if you did,” Megumin admitted, looking down. “And...and I really want to go. It sounds exciting, and I want to go on an Adventure.”

“Then read a book! That’s what they’re for! Real adventures suck! You get cold, and go hungry, and have to work hard and wake up early! Books are a lot nicer,” Kazuma argued. 

Megumin looked up again, frowning. “But they’re not real. What’s the point? I want someone to write a book about me, not have to read what someone else did.”

“No,” Kazuma snapped, and started to close the door. Megumin stuck her foot in the way, wincing as it was nearly crushed. 

“Please? Come on! Maybe we can practice sword fighting some more! I promise not to kick you in the balls again! And it will be fun! Come on, you can’t just stay in your room all day like a NEET!”   
  
Kazuma considered that. “Ok. But only if you tell me what a NEET is.”

  
“Great! Get dressed and come on! And bring your sword! We’re going on an Adventure!” Megumin declared, a wide grin blooming on her face. 

“Fine.” Megumin withdrew her foot, and then quickly knelt and massaged it after Kazuma closed the door. 

What was a NEET, anyway? Aside from Kazuma, that was obvious. Megumin didn’t know why, but whenever she thought about Kazuma, she thought about him being a NEET. Furiously, she tried to work out what that meant. She really was pretty smart, if not very wise, so when Kazuma opened the door, dressed in riding leathers himself, she had an answer. 

“A NEET is Not Ever Exiting their Territory,” Megumin stated matter of factly. “It refers to a shiftless layabout who spends all their time in their room, mooching off their parents instead of being a productive member of society. Which is what you do.”

“Yeah, OK,” Kazuma agreed, buckling on his sword belt and stepping out into the hall. “That sounds about right. Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes! This is going to be great! I bet Jon I could get you to come out, and he’s going to owe me an hour long posing session!” 

Kazuma paused for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “You practice your poses for an HOUR?”

“Of course! A cool pose is vital to an Adventurer! It strikes fear into the hearts of your foes, and inspires your allies, while proclaiming to the world that you are a truly amazing person!” 

“Uh huh. And that...the poses and weird greetings...that’s what a chuunibyou is?”

Megumin thought about that. “I think being a chuunibyou is an important part of my culture.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the North who does stupid poses and acts like a lunatic.”

“Nope! Everybody does them! Right, Fat Tom?” Megumin said, asking the portly guard with greying red whiskers at the entrance as they passed. 

He started, and looked pained. “Young Lady Megumin...”

“Come on, Fat Tom! Don’t make me look bad!” Megumin huffed, folding her arms over her chest. 

The guard sighed, rubbing his prodigious gut absently. “We have been known to...play along with the young lady, your Highness. It, er, well, it pleases her ladyship, and, well…”

“Come on, Tom, like I showed you!” Megumin ordered, a wide grin on her face. 

With a sigh, Fat Tom offered a salute, then struck a particularly egregious pose, hopping slightly on one leg. “Behold! I am Tommard, Foremost of the Guards of House Stark, and he who shall be Captain one day!” He blushed then, then jerked back into place. “Er, beggin’ your pardon, m’lord.”

“Ok,” Kazuma said, nodding slowly. “All Northerners are crazy.”

  
“Ha! Ours is a madness born from seeing into the abyss, for when one looks into the darkness, the darkness swells within them!” 

Though there was barely any light outside, Kazuma and Megumin made their way down to the stables, where dozens of riders were already assembled, and more were making ready. The king was standing with Lord Stark, laughing with a mug of beer in his hand. 

  
“Come on, let’s go see what my dad’s up to,” Kazuma sighed, and steeled himself and made his way over. 

Whatever the king had been laughing about, his expression became one of shock when he saw his son and Megumin approaching. 

“Kazuma!? Seven Hells, boy, did she actually-”

“I told you, Robert, my daughter is most persuasive,” Eddard sighed, but he gave Megumin a grin, and she smiled back, posing and sticking her hand over one eye in a V sign as she winked. 

“Not like I could get any sleep with her banging on the door and yelling like that,” Kazuma grumbled. “So, where’s our horses?”   
  


“Mine is Pucchin, the Grey Wind, swiftest of all horses!” Megumin bragged. 

The king started. “Wait, girl, you don’t actually intend to-”

“Your Grace did promise my daughters they could attend the hunt if they managed to convince Prince Kazuma to accompany us,” Lord Stark interrupted, his tone one that indicated he intended to be stubborn about things.

“You’d let your girls come on the hunt with us?!” Robert demanded, looking at Eddard incredulously. 

“We are not your soft Southron women! We are the Starks! The Direwolves of the North! We are she who howls in the night! When justice calls, we shall answer! Come, Kazuma, our prey awaits!” Megumin cackled, and led Kazuma over to the stables.

There, he found Sandor with his horse, Matsukaze, already brushed and saddled, along with a very eager looking Yunyun.

“Kazuma, Megumin! You came! Oh, I’m so happy! We’re going to have so much fun today with all our friends! I was just talking with Sandor, he’s really nice once you get to know him!” 

“Aww, Sandor, look at you!” Kazuma said, giving his bodyguard a thumbs up. “Making friends and being nice! Next thing you know, you’ll be smiling and cuddling with puppy dogs!” 

“Bloody girl just kept begging for your damn horse to be saddled. Just wanted to shut her up,” Sandor growled. But then Yunyun gave him a bright grin, and Sandor looked away, trying and failing to hide a faint blush. 

“Ok, it was totally worth it to wake up early just for this,” Kazuma chuckled, stroking Matsukaze’s muzzle affectionately. He didn’t like to go out riding all that often, but he did like the horse his father had given him for his tenth name day, and did his best to take good care of it. 

“Why nephew, that is so good to hear! Perhaps it is true what they say: the maiden maketh the burden light.”

“Uncle Tyrion!” Kazuma cried, and spun about. “They dragged you into this farce too, huh?”

  
“I’m afraid so,” Tyrion sighed, reigning in his horse. He was already mounted in his special saddle, which Kazuma had helped craft and design. He was remarkably talented at such things, even if he was rarely moved to engage in such experimentation. “It seems that everyone is expected to participate in this hunt, even hermit princes and young she-wolves.”

“...Not a NEET,” Kazuma muttered. 

“Not for lack of trying, you stupid Pedo-NEET,” Megumin sniggered. 

“Oh, so now I’m a lolicon now, huh?!” Kazuma demanded, glaring at Megumin. “What does that make YOU, Ms. No-boobs?! We’re the same age!” 

“S-shut up! I’ll get my boobs someday, mom just says it takes some girls longer!” Megumin cried, covering her chest with her hands. 

Yunyun blushed, her own hands going to cover her rather modest bodice. Unlike her sister, who could easily have been mistaken for a boy, especially with her short, messy hair, Yunyun was beginning to show the first signs of womanhood, much to her embarrassment. 

“W-well, um, we’re going to have fun today, right?” Yunyun stammered, trying to change the subject. “L-Lord Tyrion, you’re going to ride with us, right? I just know we’re going to be friends!” 

“There’s no need to flatter me, Lady Yunyun,” Tyrion chuckled. “No one will think less of you for wishing to stay apart from a dwarf.”

Tears filled Yunyun’s eyes. “You mean...you don’t want to be my friend? But you seem so nice...you’re always making jokes, and smiling, and making everyone laugh!” 

“Hey man, I told you not to be so down on yourself,” Kazuma said quietly, taking a couple steps towards Tyrion. “Look, Yunyun’s a sweetheart. She really will try to be your friend. Don’t just try any of your perverted crap on her, OK? I mean heck, she even tries to be friends with me and nobody bothers with that usually.”

Tyrion frowned down at Kazuma, then looked up at Yunyun. She gave him a big smile, and the Lannister lord realized there was no vice in that smile, no guile: Yunyun just wanted to be his friend, and to her, that meant accepting Tyrion for who was. 

  
“Well, I suppose if my lady wishes to be friends, who am I to argue?” Tyrion asked, and his voice came out rougher than he had meant. 

  
“Oh good!” Yunyun sprang forward, smiling and offering a hand to Tyrion, who after a moment took it and shook, looking a bit amused. “I like your horse! He seems very gentle. What’s his name?”

“Cub, for he carries but a small lion,” Tyrion replied, a bit of the humor returning to his voice. 

“You’re a good horse, aren’t you Cub?” Yunyun said, and offered the horse a bit of carrot she had secreted in her robes. The horse took it eagerly, and Yunyun had made two more friends that day. Megumin just knew she was going to get out that stupid journal of hers and write down everything she knew about the horse and Tyrion. Yunyun had a page for everyone for miles and miles. 

The hunt itself took place in the Wolfswood, with a great many knights, nobles, and even ladies joining the party. As for Megumin, she led her band deep into the woods, seeking new and exciting adventures. She was hoping they’d find an orc (boar) or chimera (bear) or even a centaur (deer) and be able to take it down and return as triumphant heroes. However, the animals of the woods appeared to take one look at Sandor Clegane and the two direwolves bounding through the woods with the group, and decided that they under no circumstances wished to get in the way of that kind of trouble. 

It didn’t help that Megumin’s concept of “stealth” was to wrap a black scarf about her head and ramble on about “becoming one with the shadows.” She shouted and yelled, waving about the newly remade and rechristened Chunchumaru as they rode through the wolfswood, doing battle with a variety of invisible foes. 

Yunyun of course played right along, being well used to her twin’s antics. Kazuma tried to remain aloof for a while, but Megumin’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he’d read far too many silly adventure stories that featured snarks, grumpkins, and other terrible foes not to pick up a stick and wave it about as he charged right along with the girls (he wasn’t stupid enough to actually use Masaume for such a thing). 

  
Tyrion rather enjoyed making japes about the children’s flights of fantasy, though he easily fell right in with Megumin’s delusions, concocting a grand story about her jousting and defeating a dragon when her horse started several pheasants into flight. Even Sandor seemed to be somewhat amused, making several acidic comments about Kazuma’s behavior. The prince, however, just laughed. 

  
Megumin’s great triumph came when they started a young buck out of a small copse of trees while riding along a streambank. 

  
“Go, Chomususke!” Megumin ordered, and her wolf leapt to the attack. The deer tried to escape, but with Lady cutting it off, it made a bad turn, and Chomusuke grabbed the deer around the neck, jaws snapping shut. 

“Yes! I win again!” Megumin proclaimed as her direwolf thumped her tail eagerly, her bloody muzzle split by a wolfish grin. Scrambling off her shying horse, Megumin ran over to embrace her pet, then shooed off Lady, who was sniffing at the corpse. 

“No! We shall return with our prize, and claim victory!” Megumin declared. She grinned at Kazuma, who was leaning on his saddlehorn and looking amused. “What have you contributed to our hunt? Truly, I am the greatest genius of the House of Stark!”

“Your wolf did all the work,” Kazuma observed. “But give me your sling and I’ll contribute.”

Meguin rolled her eyes, but handed the homemade weapon over to Kazuma, along with several rocks Megumin had picked out less for their aerodynamic properties and more for how cool they looked. 

“Oh you’ve done it now,” Tyrion said, shaking his head as Kazuma selected a rock and placed it in on the leather, before whirring the sling about his head, casting about for a target.

“What? That thing? I mean, I’m not bad with it, I practice hitting targets with Jon all the time, but I don’t think the prince can-”

Megumin cut off as Kazuma let fly with a cry of, “Snipe!” 

Megumin followed the path of the speeding stone through the air, and it knocked a pheasant that had just taken wing to the ground.

“Dog, fetch your master’s supper,” Kazuma proclaimed, pointing to the downed bird. 

  
“Bloody well get it yourself, I’m not crawling through that brush,” Sandor spat. 

Kazuma glared at Sandor, but dismounted and scrambled off, bringing back the pheasant, which he handed over to Megumin. “That’s one.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s one?’” she demanded, narrowing her eyes. 

“Kazuma, that was great! Where’d you get so good with a sling?” Yunyun asked as Sandor dismounted and took the deer over to the nearby stream. The Hound unsheathed his knife, and began to clean the kill, tossing the offal to the eager wolves. 

“I’m just naturally talented,” Kazuma bragged, buffing his knuckles on his tunic. 

Megumin and Yunyun looked to Tyrion, but he just chuckled. “My nephew, for all his complaining about martial pursuits, is quite skilled with sling and bow. He does always have to shout his ridiculous battlecry first, but his accuracy is rather surprising for someone who avoids practicing archery at all costs.”

“That’s because there’s no need to improve on perfection,” Kazuma sniffed. “I’m not good, I’m lucky.”

Indeed, on the way back, Kazuma killed no fewer than half a dozen fowl, including a large tom turkey. Yunyun even got Lady to start retrieving Kazuma’s kills, the wolf happily fetching the birds, then depositing them at Yunyun’s feet, wagging her tail excitedly. 

“Good girl!” Yunyun praised, and tossed Lady a treat, which Chomusuke naturally grabbed out of the air and ran off with, her sister whining sadly. 

“Mine is still bigger,” Megumin grumbled, eyeing Kazuma’s brace of game and the small deer carcass Sandor had wrapped in hide. 

“You both are winners!” Yunyun happily informed them. “I’m so glad we all had fun today! Komekko will be so excited we brought her some food!” 

“Yeah, she’s a cute little bugger, even if she’s weird. She carry that doll of hers with her everywhere?” Kazuma asked. 

“Komekko is perfectly normal for a Stark,” Yunyun sniffed. “And I’ve never seen her without Vanir.”

“I’m starting to think these Starks are as mad as our young prince,” Tyrion remarked quietly to Sandor. 

“Whole bloody world’s gone mad, Lannister,” Sandor growled. “Is it a wonder our prince found a girl as odd as he?”

“Perhaps not,” Tyrion admitted, but he smiled. It was good to see his nephew laughing in the sun. He appreciated that Kazuma preferred quieter pursuits, such as a game of cyvasse or a good book, but the boy was young, and strong. He should enjoy the simple life while he could. 

  
Back at Winterfell, the hunt was returning, and Robert was bragging about the boar that he and Ned had slain. 

“-and so Ned says to me, ‘Robert, you’re too fat to run down that beast and I’m getting too old, let those youngsters handle it!’ Well, I says to him, ‘I might be fat, but I can still-”

“BEHOLD!” 

All eyes in the courtyard turned to where three children were posing atop the gatehouse, a grudging Sandor holding up the dead buck, while Kazuma, Yunyun, and Megumin were holding aloft a fowl apiece. Tyrion stood to the side, looking amused and bearing the dead turkey. Two wolves flanked the party, and started howling, throwing their heads back and splitting the air with their cries.

“We, the Crimson Demon Clan of Adventurers, have ventured forth this day and slain the fiercest of foes within the dark and deadly Wolfswood!” Megumin declared, grinning and passing her hand over her left eye, which once more bore an eyepatch, this one cut from a corner of Kazuma’s red riding cloak. 

“Lo, we have slain the deadly Jabberwocky, and claimed its meat for ourselves!” Kazuma boasted, pointing to the deer, which made Sandor roll his eyes and foist the carcass up a little higher. 

“And we couldn’t have done it without our friends!” Yunyun added, smiling happily. 

“Indeed, such incredible feats of daring and bravery have scarcely been seen outside the pages of the most fanciful of children’s tales,” Tyrion agreed. “Verily, I thought this fearsome bird might have pecked my eyes out if not for my nephew’s timely intervention.”

  
“Indeed, for that is none other than the deadly Cockatrice of Axel!” Meguimin boasted. “We ventured deep into a dungeon, facing many terrible foes! But Ser Tyrion, in a brave act of valor, felled the terrible beast with a single blow from his axe!”

“Did I now?” Tyrion asked, chuckling. “I must have forgotten in all the excitement.”

“You call me Ser Clegaine and I’m chucking your bloody deer over the wall,” Sandor growled. 

“And Archwizard Clegaine, using only his fearsome glare, fended off a terrible gorgon!” Megumin added, without skipping a beat. Sandor snorted, but was clearly having a harder and harder time not smiling at the small girl’s ever evolving vivid tale, which included several close calls, a battle with a band of wildlings, Megumin saving the prince from giant toads of all things, and Yunyun and Megumin “combining their deep crimson” to slay a “general of the Witch Beyond the Wall herself!” 

“Ned,” Robert said quietly as the crowd whistled and cheered to hear of the exploits of the “Crimson Demon Clan”. “I’m starting to think both our children are quite mad, you know that?”

“You just realized that now, did you Robert?” Eddard whispered back, smiling and clapping as Megumin’s ramblings wound down. 

“Seven Hells Ned, they’re going to have to get married. No one else would tolerate them! You know that half the maidens in King's Landing call my son Pervzuma? Apparently, he’s managed to steal several of their smallclothes. How, I have no bloody idea. The boy seems like he’s afraid of women half the time, and uninterested the other half. But I swear, at twelve he’s more of a lecher than I ever was.”

“They’re still young,” Eddard told his friend, slapping the king on the shoulder. “But I think this match will turn out to be most beneficial to the both of us.”

“Aye, I suppose it will be good for the North to have closer ties to the throne, and the South,” Robert agreed.

“I was more thinking that it would give their poor fathers some peace of mind, and keep us from going bald and white, while their mothers tear their hair out in frustration,” Eddard whispered, his mouth near to the king's ear.

  
Robert started, his eyes going wide as Eddard slapped him on the back again and stepped away a pace. “You have changed, Ned. What happened to that dour man of honor who couldn’t have had fun in a whorehouse?”

  
“He had children, and realized some things are more important than a man's honor,” Eddard said with a shake of his head. “Megumin has had a way of making her poor father consider what is merely a point of pride, and what really matters to him. In the end, I’ve picked her time and again.”

Robert grunted, and looked up at his son, considering. “Well. Maybe there’s some wisdom in that.”

  
Up above them, Megumin bowed to her adoring audience, and stepped back. “Come, let us depart to the kitchens, that we might feast on the spoils of victory!” 

Beaming with pride, Megumin only came to a halt when she found her mother and the queen waiting for them at the base of the stairs, worryingly neutral expressions on their faces. 

  
“Er, greetings, mother. Have you, um, come to witness our glory?” Megumin stammered, taking half a step back. 

  
However, Kazuma boldly continued on, taking Megumin by the hand and dragging her forward. “My ladies! I bequeath to you the first of the spoils of our conquest! We shall have the cooks prepare an excellent dish especially for you. Won’t we, O fearless leader?” 

  
“Um, yes! That is exactly what we shall do!” Megumin agreed, grinning widely at her mother and praying to the goddesses old and new she didn’t get in trouble for this. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had done that would get her in the most trouble, but she was also fairly certain she had done a variety of things that her mother had forbidden, the first of which was that both she and Yunyun were dressed in boys clothes. 

Instead glaring at her daughters, Catelyn looked to the prince. “Did my daughters act as proper hostesses, Your Highness?”

“Um, yes?” Kazuma ventured. “I mean, yes, Lady Stark. Your daughters have been the very model of, er, feminine grace and beauty, and have catered to my every need.”

“Oh mom, you won’t believe how much fun we had!” Yunyun cried, breezing past her sibling and giving her mother a hug and a big grin. “Kazuma is really good with a sling! He got all kinds of birds today! Oh, and Queen Cersei, your brother is so funny! We’re good friends now! Did you see the stitching Myrcella and I did yesterday? She says you’re really good at it too! Tomorrow, let’s all sit together and do some needlework, my mom’s good at it too! I’ll make Megumin behave, and Mr. Sandor says Kazuma’s pretty good with a needle too! Please, can we?”

Cercei blinked at Yunyun, then looked up at her son, who blushed. “Well, I mean, it’s not hard or anything. Anyone can figure out how to sew an eyepatch.”

“Come on, let’s go get Komekko and we can help my friend Turnip cook the food!” Yunyun said, and grabbed Kazuma and Megumin and hauled them away.

“Sister. Lady Stark,” Tyrion said, easing himself down the stairs. Then he waddled off, chuckling to himself. Sandor just followed after the children silently, still carrying the deer carcass.

The two ladies watched them go, then Cersei let out a long, much suffering sigh. “I have a bottle of Dornish Red secreted in my rooms. I believe you could use a cup or two of it as much as I, Lady Stark.”

“I rather think you are right,” Catelyn agreed. She’d never thought she’d bond with Cercei Lannister of all people over the trials of motherhood, but…” At least if we’re drunk enough, we won’t have to strangle our children and husbands for their foolishness.”

By the time the feast rolled around, Cersei and Catelyn were both further into their cups than the King, and well on their way to becoming fast friends. Yunyun couldn’t have been happier. 

_ Cast of Characters _

_ Kazuma Sato as; Joffrey Baratheon’s less douchey cousin. _

_ Megumin as; The Foremost Genius of the House of Stark, Aria.  _

_   
_ _ Yunyun as: Sansa, if she were a friendship addict, and apparently better at politics.  _

_ Chomusuke as; Nymeria the Dire Wolf _

_ Sandor Clegane as; Ser Definitely Not A Ser _

_ Tyrion Lannister as; the newest member of the Crimson Demon Clan _

_ Robart Baratheon as; working on his dadding, but rocking that dad bod.  _

_ Cersei and Catelyn as; Say thanks to your mom, kids. She puts up with all your shit.  _

_ And Eddard Stark as; By the Old Goddesses, my daughter might not die alone. _

_ With the Very Confused cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as (mostly) themselves.  _


	5. Not Entirely Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, isn't everything always Aqua's fault?

_ Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon _

_ Produced by: @The Grand Cognator _

_ This Fic is sponsored by: Smartwater. Feeling dumb? Drink a bottle of Smartwater! Then, you’ll still be dumb, but at least you’ll be hydrated! _

_ And brought to you by your local PBS Station, and reviews from readers like you. Thank you. _

_ Chapter 5: Not Entirely Useless _

Snow blanketed the ground, and a cold wind blew out of the North. Though this winter had lasted only a few months and would be a brief one, no Northern Winter was ever light. There was no one about on the road, and the sky was black, save for the twinkling of scattered stars. Then, two squabbling voices filled the peaceful air.

“Oh man, why couldn’t we make it summer? It’s too cold right now! I’m going to freeze!” 

“I told you it was cold, but you said you didn’t need a heavier jacket. And would it kill you to wear pants, or at least a longer dress? Seriously, no one wears a skirt in the Winter Time.”

“Ugh, I’m just going to make it Summer for a bit, this is too cold.”

  
“No, don’t do that! Do you even REMEMBER how hard it was to get Holo to allow us up here?! We had to give her a literal ton of apples!” 

Two young women walked along the cleared path towards the castle gates through Winter Town, one dressed in a thick, sensible ladies dress and cloak with a feathered mantle, and the other in a cute white jacket and white cap. Though she had on long stockings, part of her legs were barred by her dangerously short skirt. A few eyes peeked out at the strangers, but as it was cold outside, none of the towns residents bothered to confront the two women. 

“Oh man, the gate’s closed,” the woman in the skirt sighed when they got to the castle. “How are we supposed to get in?”

“Ugh, I knew this would happen. We should have just appeared in the Sept,” the other complained. 

“...but I wanted to see the town! Gotta make sure this is the right place, you know? Maybe we should just do the Reach or Dorne again instead. It’s warmer there.”

“I’m not going all the way back to the south after we came here. Besides, we agreed that this was the best place for the three of them. I’m not resubmitting our plan because you can’t handle the cold.”

“Hmph. Well, whatever. You’re the lucky one, how do we get the gate open?”

“Come on, there’s a side door somewhere.”

The two women started to trudge through the waist high snow, until the first got fed up and clapped her hands. Instantly, the snow flew out of her way, piling itself neatly in a stack to the side.

“...you forgot that snow is water again, didn’t you?” her companion sighed. 

  
“Shut up. Snow is icky water, it hardly counts.”

“Do you remember that clouds are water, too?”

  
“Of course I remember that! That’s where rain comes from! How dumb do you think I am!?”

“...you really want me to answer that?”

After several minutes of walking and bickering, the two young women found a side gate, and the warmly dressed one walked out the door, tapping it with her finger. “Pick Lock.”

The door swung open, and both girls stepped inside, only to be confronted by a suddenly very alert pair of guards. 

“Who goes there?” Fat Tom, who wasn’t so fat yet, growled, pointing his spear at them. 

The cutely dressed girl stepped forward, grinning broadly. “Greetings, mortal! I am the-”

“No one is here,” her companion said, clamping her hand over her friend's mouth. “You opened the gate to check on a noise. Nothing was there. Go back to your duty.”

“We opened the gate to check on a noise,” Skinnier Tom intoned, his eyes going dull. “There was nothing there. We should go back to our duty.”

“This is a stealth mission, you ninny! Lurk!” 

  
The two women vanished, and aside from a trail of footprints in the snow, there was no sign of their passage. 

Up in the Lord’s room, Eddard and Catelyn were lying in one another's arms, sweaty and content, having just finished one of the only activities one can partake in during a long winter night. The room felt a bit empty to Catelyn, as not long before Robb had been moved to his own chambers. He was nearly three, and now his nurse would be tending to him instead of his parents. She was hoping that she would have another child soon: Eddard had been home for several years, and though they had shared a bed frequently, she had not yet quickened again. 

Both were just about to fall asleep when the door banged open to reveal the two strange girls.

  
“Greetings, Mortals! I am the-oh, you’re going to complain again? These are the right mortals, aren’t they?”

“Oh my me, this is not how you introduce yourself!” 

Eddard sprang out of bed, his hand flying to his sword as his mouth opened to yell for the guards. Catelyn screamed and drew the bed sheets up to herself. The two quarreling women paused as Eddard raised Ice, but their reactions made him freeze. 

“Heh heh. Nice,” the first woman said, giving Eddard a thumbs up. “Guess we don’t have to worry about Megumin’s dad being under equipped.”

“Um, er, we’re supposed to be virginal goddesses, please put some clothes on,” the other whimpered, covering her eyes. 

“Speak for yourself. YOU can be the Maiden: Madoka doesn’t have a no-boinking rule for her pantheon and I’m thinking about trying it out,” the woman turned back to Eddard, giving him a big grin. “Behold, mortal! We are the goddesses, here to grant you a divine blessing!”

“You don’t look like any goddesses I worship,” Eddard said slowly, not lowering his sword. 

“Huh? Wait, is he on the list?”

“Um, no, he’s not. Catelyn is though. Eddard’s one of Holo’s,” the blushing goddess said, taking out a parchment from thin air and looking it over. 

“Seven preserve us,” Catelyn gasped, lowering the blankets slightly as she gaped in astonishment. “Ned...I think...I think that’s Aqua and Eris.”

“Yep!” the blue haired goddess said, giving Catelyn a big grin. “That’s us! We’re here to talk to you about our Isekai program!” 

“Aqua, they’re not Japanese. They don’t know what an Isekai Program is. And do they really look like NEETs to you? Come on. We’ve been the Goddesses of this world for literally seven thousand years,” Eris groaned. 

“Oh. Um, we’re here to…”

“Talk to you about how we’re going to save your world,” Eris said firmly. “Please, Eddard, put the sword down. We want to help save your house.”

“And we want to hang out with-” Eris clamped her hand over Aqua’s mouth and hissed something in her ear again, but Eddard did lower his sword slowly. Then he blushed, and hurriedly grabbed his clothes, scrambling into them and tossing Catelyn her own. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, we see lots of naked mortals. You would not BELIEVE how many people envision themselves as naked when they die,” Aqua giggled. 

“Goddesses, we are...we are honored by your presence,” Catelyn managed, pulling her nightgown over her head quickly. “But...why have you come to visit us?”

Aqua’s expression fell, and Eris looked grim. “Yours is the world of Ice and Fire. Things are...unbalanced. Winter and Summer last for years, and the world tilts between destruction by both. This is now how things were meant to be.”

  
“We weren’t the original gods in charge of your world. But those gods were super lazy, so we kicked ‘em out and took over,” Aqua explained. “There are some terrible forces of, er, the Ice King?”

“Between the Lord of Night, and the Lord of Light,” Eris explained. “One seeks to bathe the world in flame, and bring only chaos and destruction. The other would see the world a chilled tomb of order, with the only life that which he controls utterly in his grip.”

“And you, Lord Stark, are the Warden of the North,” Aqua continued, falling into a rhythm. “Yours is the line of guardians of Ice. We’ve tried to help out, to bring a Queen to balance out the Night King, but...well, that was only a temporary fix.”

“We want to help you,” Eris said, her tone pleading. “You know that Winter is Coming. But,...goddesses aren’t allowed to just fight mortals' battles for them. We are here to guide and empower mortals to face the horrors of this world.”

  
“But we also can maybe put a finger on the scales to tip the balance,” Aqua added. “And we’d like your help.”

Eddard had sunk to his knees, taking Catelyn’s hand in his own. “How...how can we help you, Goddesses? I serve the Old Gods, but-”

  
“Whoa, not asking you to convert, that’s not part of the deal,” Aqua assured Eddard. “We just need your permission to grant you a special blessing: the Children of Destiny.”

“We will give you children, as you desire, those blessed by the Goddesses to face the evil that is rising in this World of Ice and Fire. They will be...different. Touched by a terrible destiny, but able to stand against both the Night that binds and the Light that blinds,” Eris said gently. 

“Children?” Eddard asked, startled. “You would bless us with strong sons?”

The two goddesses exchanged a look. “Um, well, not quite. But they’ll be strong. And, more importantly, they will change the destiny of House Stark,” Eris explained.

  
Aqua nodded, looking irritated. “The other gods were really hands off, they were just gonna let all sorts of terrible things happen! Well, we’re not that sort of goddesses! We’ll make sure your kids are blessed, and able to help their friends and family even as they save the world.”

“Your children will not be alone: there will be others,” Eris promised. “We are the guardians of mortals in this realm, and we love all of you. Even if we have...strange ways of expressing it.” Eris’s eyes slid to Aqua, who was oblivious to the jab. “But it will be a hard path, for all of you. This is the way to salvation, though. Please: accept our blessings.”

“We have wanted more children,” Catelyn said quietly. “Ned, if the goddesses bless us…”

Slowly, Eddard nodded. “We shall be grateful for your blessings, goddesses. I will...I will even ensure that prayers and offerings are given to the both of you.”

  
“Eh, don’t worry about it too much, but that would be nice” Aqua said, then walked over and took Eddard’s head in her hands, and kissed him gently on the forehead. Then she did the same to Catelyn. She stepped back, smiling as the two mortals trembled slightly. “Great! Now, about their names.”

“Names?” Catelyn asked, touching her brow where Aqua’s lips had pressed. 

  
Aqua nodded. “Yep. Gotta have the right ones. Now, for the twins, you’re gonna wanna name them Yunyun and Megumin. You’ll know which is which, trust me. We’ll come back when it’s time for the next one, just make sure she’s good.”

“The...next one?” Eddard asked faintly. “Twins?” 

“Yep! Don’t worry, Cat’s super strong and we’ll make sure the births go well!”

“Good luck,” Eris said, giving the two baffled mortals a wink. “Don’t worry, things will work out! Just lighten up a little, and have some fun!”

“Bye! Say hi to Yunyun and Megumin for me! We’ve got other stuff to do, but don’t worry, the Old Goddesses will keep an eye on things for us!” Aqua called cheerily. Then, without a further word, the two Goddesses simply vanished in a blaze of light.

Silence filled the air, and for a long while, Eddard and Catelyn didn’t move, simply clinging to one another. 

“Well,” Catelyn said at last, clearing her throat. “Children. Blessed by the goddesses.”

“That was...was that a dream?” Eddard asked faintly. 

Catelyn gave her husband a wide smiled, and pulled him to her. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

Out in the night sky, two stars arose: both shimmering with a deep crimson. Nine months later, Winterfell celebrated the birth of twin girls with dark hair, and Crimson Eyes. While their parents selected very odd names for them, no one remarked over much on the selection. After all, they had been born under strange signs. 

Four years later, Aqua and Eris returned, and once more, a Crimson Star arose in the sky above Winterfell, though it was summer, and nights were rare, it blazed day and night until Komekko was born.

In the years to come, in their weaker moments, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell would ask themselves just what had compelled them to take the strange blessing of the Goddesses. Unbeknownst to them, they were far from the only Great House to ponder such a thing. 

==================================================================

Despite the feast that was taking place that night, Jon Snow was feeling a bit melancholy. It wasn’t because of anything in particular, in fact, he should have been in high spirits. Catelyn Stark, for the first time Jon could remember, had invited him to sit at the high table when there were guests around. When the Queen had made a face about having a bastard sit with them, the Crown Prince himself had defended “Big J” and called him his friend. 

  
Which meant either Yunyun had been getting to the Lannisters, or Prince Kazuma was a much better man than he appeared to be, for all his oddities. 

And so, Jon found himself outside the feast, sitting with Ghost in the godswood and contemplating his future. His Lord Father, Robb, and the twins, were all heading south in a few days with the king’s company, with Lord Stark to assume the office of the Hand of the King, the second most powerful man in the land. 

  
Jon could ask to come with them, or even to stay in Winterfell. Lady Stark’s sudden unexplained warmth to him was a balm to Jon’s spirits, but there were too many years of cold treatment from her for him to really desire to stay in Winterfell, even with Komekko and Rickon. Theon Greyjoy had indicated he wished to go south with Lord Stark and Robb, and seemed to believe that Jon should come as well. 

“Think of it, Snow. Plenty of women with open arms and legs waiting for us, the ward of the Hand, and the bastard! Ha! Robb might think himself above visiting a whorehouse, but you aren’t, eh? Besides, the capitol is the perfect place for bastard sons and misfits. You might take up service for one of the Southron lords. You’re not bad with a blade, even if you did lose to Prince Kazuma, and someone would be sure to take you on.”

If Jon took service in the south, his path would be clear: work as a knight for one of the lords of the land, perhaps one of the Great Houses. Prince Kazuma seemed to think highly of Jon, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume he could help him find a place at Casterly Rock or Dragonstone. Jon was certain his father would provide him with arms, armor, and a horse, and Jon knew if he served faithfully and well, he’d likely be rewarded with a keep or holdfast somewhere, along with the daughter of a wealthy merchant or minor noble. Perhaps he’d even earn a proper last name. 

That, however, didn’t feel right, didn’t sit right with him. He glanced at Ghost and frowned. “Well, boy, what do you think I should do?”

Ghost simply wagged his tail, his red eyes unreadable in the dim light of the short summer night. “At least you will always love me no matter what I do, even if no one else will.”

“That is not true! Even if you turned into a warg or one of the Others, still, I would stand by your side through darkness and flame, forever battling against your mysterious and wicked nature!” 

Jon snorted a laugh and turned as Megumin came over and sat down by him. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

  
“Of course! But aren’t you going to come with us?” his little sister asked, her red eyes glowing slightly in the darkness. Jon knew what few others did: all three of his sisters could see like cats, even in near pitch blackness. Ghost looked up, his tail wagging slightly as his sister Chomusuke padded over and stretched herself out beside him.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t think my path lies to the south,” Jon admitted. 

“What have I told you of such things?” Megumin demanded, squatting down on her haunches across from Jon. 

He sighed. “To listen to the voices that call to me from beyond the void. But I don’t think that’s actually going to help me in this situation, Megs.”

“Hmph. That is because your inner voices are lame. For someone with such a dark and mysterious past, you have a depressing lack of incredible hidden power and evil demons possessing you.”

“My past isn’t that dark and mysterious,” Jon said, his tone dry. “I’m a bastard, Meguimn. Father’s by blow on some woman.”

Despite the shadows, Jon could see the scowl on Megumin’s face. “I don’t think so. Dad doesn’t seem like he’d just cheat on mom like that. You’re secretly the child of a demon, or maybe a hidden prince, or even-”

“Megumin, father’s a man, for all his virtues. He wouldn’t be the first noble man to fall to temptation. At least he’s done right by me,” Jon pointed out. “I could have done a lot worse to be the bastard son of Eddard Stark.”

  
Megumin shifted, moving to come beside Jon and wrap him in a tight hug. “You’re not a bastard; you’re my brother. Kazuma, on the other hand, is a bastard.”

Jon had to suppress a cough, hiding a smile. He’d left the feast hall just as the prince and his sister had decided to pick a fight with one another. Both of their lady mothers had seemed rather exasperated by the whole thing, especially since the fight ended up being over something entirely silly: who’s sword had the cooler name.

“Chunchumaru is lame! What does that even mean? It’s nonsense! Only a chuuni idiot would like it!”

“Oh yeah?! Well who’s ever heard of a sword called Masamune! That’s a stupid name only a NEET would think up!

  
The argument had devolved from there to little more than bickering, at which point Jon had left, probably right before King Robert lost his temper. 

“You know father intends for the two of you to wed, don’t you?” Jon teased. 

“Hmph. Before that, I shall run away, and join the Night's Watch! I shall slay the Night King, and become the Lord Commander, and have a cool black cloak, and they shall call me Megumin Nightsbane!” 

“I don’t think they let girls join the watch. They call it a brotherhood, after all,” Jon chuckled.

  
“Hmph. Well, I guess it’s good my boobs are so small,” Megumin muttered, and looked down forlornly at her chest. “I can pretend to be a boy until a suitably dramatic moment.”

“You’re only twelve; give it time,” Jon told her gently, giving Megumin a squeeze. “Some girls just take longer, just like some boys don’t get their growth until later.” That struck close to home for Jon, who despite being only a little younger than Robb was a hand shorter. 

“I guess,” Megumin shrugged. 

“You know...I was considering joining the watch myself,” Jon admitted. It had been the logical step. If he wasn’t going south, and he wasn’t staying in Winterfell, the only place left to go would be north.

While Jon had expected Megumin to go on about how his was a dark and terrible destiny and of course he should join the Night’s Watch, instead, she looked up at him, startled and perhaps a little afraid. “What?! You mean, you would...leave? But...you’re my brother.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Megumin. Perhaps I could become one of Robb’s knights in time, or rule a holdfast, but that’s not what I want. I want something of my own, and, well, something of the Starks. Our house has long sent its bastards and spare sons to the wall.”

Tears filled Megumin’s eyes, and she suddenly threw herself on Jon, squeezing him tightly. For a minute, she didn’t say anything, only pressing her face to his chest, but then she looked up, and nodded at him. “Ok. You’ll be the greatest Lord Commander that the Watch has ever known. I know Uncle Benjen will take good care of you, and that you will realize your dark and terrible destiny with the watch. Perhaps you shall meet a beautiful woman beyond the wall, and fall in love with her, and one day become King Beyond the Wall!” 

  
“Sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch take no wives, and have no children,” Jon told her, feeling slightly bemused as he often did when speaking to his sister. 

“Only until you die,” Megumin pointed out. “After that you can do whatever you want.”

The sheer absurdity of that statement robbed Jon of a response aside from stifling his laughter. 

“You’ll always be my big brother,” Megumin told Jon, giving him another hug. “No matter where we are. If you are ever in need of aid, speak my name, and I shall come!” 

“And you’ll always be my sister. In brightest day, or blackest night, if you call upon me, my lady, I shall come,” Jon told her. 

Later that evening, Jon found his father and Uncle Benjen talking alone as the feast wound down. 

“My Lords,” Jon said, clearing his throat. 

  
Benjen turned to Jon, frowning. “Why so formal? You haven’t been in your cups, have you Jon?”

His father didn’t speak, but his eyes looked pained. 

“Father, I...I would ask your blessing to join the Night’s Watch,” Jon said, squaring his shoulders and forcing his voice to be calm. “I don’t wish to go south with you. I’d always be the Stark Bastard there, no matter what I did. And...and while Lady Catelyn has been kindly to me these past few weeks, I know she bears no love for me. I cannot remain here. I would seek my own destiny, and join the Night’s Watch.”

“Have you been talking to that sister of yours?” Benjen asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“No. Well, yes, but...I’ve given this a lot of thought. It is...traditional, for the spare sons of Winterfell to join the Night’s Watch, as you did Uncle Benjen, and many before you. And besides; even a bastard may rise far in the watch.”

Benjen weighed Jon’s words, then looked to his older brother. After a moment, Lord Stark nodded, then put a hand on Jon’s. “It is an honorable path you have chosen, my son. Though it is also a hard one. The Wall is no kindly place, even compared to the years when my lady wife had little love for you.”

“I know. But...I want you to be proud of me, father,” Jon said, feeling raw emotion in his voice. 

  
Eddard reached out, and embraced his son. Though Jon didn’t know his true lineage, Eddard Stark did think of the boy as his son, and not a bastard at that. He’d been grieved that he couldn’t allow his sister’s son to sit with him at the high table all these years, and had done what he could to make Jon’s boyhood a happy one. He regretted now he’d never trusted Catelyn with the truth. After all, if he couldn’t trust her, who could he?

They separated, and Eddard gently passed Jon over to his brother. “Watch over him, Ben. I don’t expect you to coddle the boy. But he is my son.”

“He shall be my brother, as everyone in the watch is,” Benjen stated grimly, then softened slightly, and mussed Jon’s hair. “But he’ll be my nephew as well. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, boy. If anything, I’ll be harder. I expect more from a son of Winterfell than from the common scum we scrape out of dungeons.”

Jon swelled, and nodded. “I’ll make you proud. Both of you. Who knows? Maybe I really will be Lord commander one day.”

“What?”   
  


The three men turned to see a panicked looking Yunyun. “Y-You’re joining the watch? B-but that’s so far away! We...we won’t see one another!”

Jon sighed. He’d known this would be the hardest part. “Yunyun, I-”

She sprang forward, throwing herself into Jon’s arms. “I’ll write you every day! W-when I can’t send a raven, I’ll save the letters for when we send up supplies! And you write me back! I want to hear about all the friends you make, and how much fun you’re having, and, and if you’re scared you come back! I’ll tell mom to be nice to you and-”

“Come, my love. It’s late. Your brother has preparations to make,” Eddard said, gently removing Yunyun from Jon’s arms and picking her up. She sniffled, clinging to her father, though she was getting a bit big to be carried so, Eddard managed easily. 

Jon sighed, then stiffened his spine and nodded. He turned, and headed for his chambers. He had a few days, but he wanted to be ready.

No one noticed that Ghost had stayed behind in the god’s wood, nor that five other dark shapes had loped to the wood, leaping the fence easily and forming a semi circle on either side of their white brother around the weirwood tree. The wolves sat in silence for a moment, until a great shape shifted within the woods. 

From the shadows stalked an enormous beast, larger even than a full grown direwolf, bigger than a destrier, nearly the size of a mammoth. The great she-wolf’s coat was brown, save for a white underbelly and tuft at the end of the tail. Her children bowed to their mother, inclining their heads respectfully.

The Wise Wolf of the North did not remain by the weirwood tree, instead walking to the godswood pond, in which the light of the half moon glowed. The wolves sat, waiting. After a few minutes, the surface of the water rippled. From it arose a startlingly beautiful young woman of indeterminate age. She could have passed for a maiden of only a handful of winters, or perhaps a far older woman. She walked across the surface of the pond, her bare toes splashing softly. Her clothes and blue hair were dry, and she walked up to the great she-wolf. Though it towered over her, the Goddess did not seem fearful. She only bowed politely, inclining slightly at the waist. In return, the Wise Wolf lowered her head, acknowledging her equal. 

“So, it’s working?” Aqua asked.

_ My brother goes north to the barrier,  _ Grey Wind growled, speaking not the tongues of men, but something far older and more primal. 

_ Four wolves shall ride south, three of my cubs with them, _ Holo added, sitting back on her haunches and lowering herself so that her eyes were on a level with the Southron goddess’s. 

“Ok. I’ll talk to my friend up north. It’s getting harder to speak with them, even as it’s getting too easy for us to touch the world,” Aqua said, shivering slightly. “We’ve kept the magic locked away for so long, but we can’t do it for much longer. They’re both breaking free.” 

_ Winter is coming, _ the wolf pack agreed. 

_ Fear not, Goddess of Water. The Wolves will hold to our ancient oaths, even as men forget,  _ Holo growled. 

“Well, that’s why we’re reminding them, right?” Aqua asked. Then she sighed. “But Winter isn’t our only problem. If it’s Winter up here, you know what that means for the southern lands. The Lord of Light grows in power. He hasn't been this active since he brought the Doom. We contained that mess, barely, but...if we have the Long Night and another Doom to contend with at the same time…”

  
Aqua started to sniffle, wiping at her eyes as her lip trembled. But Holo leaned forward, nuzzling the New Goddess.  _ Then mortal men shall fade from this world entirely, and us with them as the Light and Darkness destroy all in their eternal battle. Do not fear, young goddess. I have seen many gods come and go. There were thousands of my brothers and sisters, who once held sway across the entire world. Now, only I remain. The Last Wolf.  _

“I won’t let them,” Aqua whispered. “I... you know I cheated, right? I brought heroes from another world. It’s...well, it’s what I do. This isn’t the only world I watch, but...I love my followers here just as much as I do anywhere. I had to do something.”

_ ‘Tis hardly cheating when one makes the rules of the game,  _ Holo replied, her tone amused as she gently licked Aqua’s cheek.  _ I have known other lands as well. But here I stay with my mate. I believe in thy cause, young goddess. We shall stand, together, alongside mortal men as we once did.  _

“That’s how the other gods of this world died, isn’t it?” Aqua asked quietly, reaching up to gently stroke Holo’s neck. Normally the other goddess would have been offended at such a gesture, but she was as frightened as Aqua, though she hid it far better. 

_ Yes. Even gods must fade. No world lasts forever. All stories must end, _ Holo said, even as her pups whimpered mournfully.

“Not this time,” Aqua said fiercely, and an ethereal blue glow entered into her eyes. When she stepped away from Holo, though she looked the same, no mortal could have mistaken her for a youth: she was old, and terrible, and full of power. Though to Holo, she was indeed a very young goddess, barely into her tenth millennium. 

Holo had been there before the dawn age, before even the Children of the Forest, over 20,000 years ago, back before time began. To her, even an unfathomably ancient being like Aqua was little better than a child.

_ Then we shall sing the Song of Ice and Fire once more,  _ Holo said, and threw back her head and howled. 

Aqua grinned, and there was sadness and pain in her smile, but also triumph. “I always preferred the smell of Bakuretsu in the morning.”

Cast of Characters:

  
_ Aqua as; A not-so-useless goddess (but still kinda dumb) _

_ Eris as; The Designated Driver for Aqua _

_ Aegon Targaryen as; Knowing Nothing, Jon Snow _

_ The Stark Direwolves as; Holo’s puppers _

_ Holo the Wise Wolf as; Biggest Pupper _

_ And with ???? and ???? as; The Lord of Light and The Night King _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as the Straight Man _

_ Authors Note:  _

_ We’re not going to be spending a great deal of time going over Jon’s joining of the watch, or his training there. You can more or less hazard that it proceeds mostly in line with canon, save for one or two incidents we’ll cover. I did want to at least acknowledge that he’s a bit happier in this universe, and that his three little sisters do love him very much, and he them.  _

_ There will, however, be a few different things up north, as it were, and when Jon confronts them, well, you know what they say. _

_ If you give Frodo a Lightsaber… _

_ Then you’d better give Darth Vader a bouncy castle! _

_ Wait... _

  
  



	6. Friendship is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many friends does Yunyun have? Yes.

_ Written and directed by: Full-Paragon _

_ Produced by: @The Grand Cognator _

_ This chapter is sponsored by: Blue Apron. When you want to make meals for your 3241 friends, Blue Apron has you covered. Fresh meals ready to cook delivered to your door, with instructions so easy a NEET could do it. _

_ WARNING: The following is rated NC-17, for extreme acts of lewdness. You have been warned. There is HAND HOLDING in this chapter. And *gasp* headpats. Those perverts.  _

_ Chapter 6: Friendship is Magic _

The sun was barely up, but Yunyun had been awake for hours, hurrying about Winterfell making some last minute preparations. “Good morning Rickon!” 

“Morning,” Rickon yawned, smiling up at Yunyun as she opened his shutters. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Yunyun said, sitting on Rickon’s bed and giving her baby brother a big hug. 

“Miss you too,” Rickon said, happily giving his favorite sibling a squeeze. Yunyun knew he didn't really understand that she was going to be gone for a very, very long time. Possibly years. It pained her to be leaving her mother, Jon, Rickon, and all her friends behind, but she was also excited for the chance to go somewhere new and make new friends! She had made sure to ask for several new Friendship Journals to record everything in.

Yunyun walked Rickon down to breakfast, where they ate with Jon, Uncle Benjen, mother, and all of Yunyun’s friends. Catelyn was a bit embarrassed and exasperated that this meant they had to sit at the lower tables, but there just wasn’t room for everyone at the high table! Yunyun chatted with Mikken the smith, and Gage the Cook, and Barth the Brewer, and their daughters and wives and sons and everyone else. She gave away many small gifts, with special ones for her siblings. 

“Rickon, I made you a special toy,” Yunyun said, and pulled out the crochet wolf in the grey and white colors of Shaggy Dog, which she gave to the delighted Rickon. “Make sure you think about me when you play with it, alright?”

“OK!” Rickon agreed happily, and held the toy out to the real Shaggy Dog, who sniffed it appreciatively. 

“Mother, I made you this,” Yunyun said, and pulled out a small hanging she’d embroidered over the past few days. She’d had to cheat a little on it, but no one had noticed her knitting needles working quietly on their own, so she figured that was OK. It was a picture of Yunyun, Megumin, and their parents, done in vivid colors. Yunyun had also had to cheat a little on the colors, as they hadn’t had all the right thread, but she’d done that so often no one even suspected she was using magic. She wasn’t really sure how she used the magic, but she always knew how to do it. 

“Thank you, Yunyun. I’ll hang it in my bed chamber. It will be a balm to me when I think of my two oldest daughters and my lord husband,” Catelyn cried, wiping at her eyes. She and Yunyun hugged and had a good cry together, but Yunyun had to pull away: she still had more to do. 

“Jon, this is for you,” Yunyun told her older brother, she refused to think of him as a bastard and became very cross with anyone who dared mention such a filthy word in her presence, and pulled out a set of thick, black, woolen stockings. “Um, since you’re joining the Night’s Watch, I thought maybe you’d need something to keep your toes warm! And, well, I guess this is your color now.”

“I helped!” Megumin said brightly. She had indeed, as originally the stockings had been white, until Megumin helpfully pointed out that the Night’s Watch wore black. The two of them had gotten in a bit of trouble for stealing the dye and using it, but unlike her sister Yunyun was rarely in trouble for long. No one seemed to have the heart to deny their friend anything. 

“Thank you, both of you,” Jon said, pulling both of his sisters into an embrace and kissing their heads. “I’ll miss you.”

“Be safe. A-and if you’re in trouble, write to me, or call! I-I’ll come and help!” Yunyun promised. 

“I don’t know how much help you’d be against wildlings, sister, but I suppose I can look forward to more socks on my next nameday,” Jon chuckled. 

  
Yunyun beamed. Though even she wasn’t aware of just how helpful she could be against wildlings, or anything else that was vulnerable to beams of molten plasma. Which was just about everything. So far, Yunyun just knew she could use tricks to make more presents for her friends. Which was good, because Yunyun had a lot of friends. 

“What about me?!” Komekko asked eagerly. 

Yunyun sighed. She’d wanted to get something more permanent for her sister, but…gifts were about what people wanted, not what you did. “I made your favorite.”

  
“YES!” Komekko cried as her sister set a plate of honey cakes in front of her. Catelyn confiscated them of course, giving Komekko exactly one, and having a servant take the others for storage. That was good, they might last until Yunyun was actually gone then. 

Of course, despite Yunyun’s efforts, there just wasn’t enough time. She barely was able to say goodbye to all her friends in the castle, despite having started the day before. In desperation, she ran up to the king as he was mounting his enormous horse.

  
“Your Grace!” Yunyun cried, hurrying up to look up at the big man as he was stepping onto the mounting block. “Please, can we take the time to say goodbye to my friends in Winter Town? I know we’re in a hurry, but it would mean a lot to me! You understand, don’t you? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Robert smiled, and reached down to pat Yunyun affectionately on the head. “Of course we are! Why, I’ve never seen Myrcella so happy as when she’s with you. Don’t fret child, I’m old, and fat. We’ll go slowly. I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to say goodbye to all your friends.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” Yunyun gasped, and hurried away to get the wagon she had prepared. She barely noticed Robert’s jaw drop as she led out the overloaded vehicle, which was piled high with packages and bundles. 

“You’ve done it now, Robert,” her father laughed. “I dare say we might be lucky to make it out of Winter Town by the evening.”

“Seven Hells, Ned, how many friends does your daughter have in Winter Town?” the King asked, sounding faint. 

“There are currently 3,241 people living in Wintertown!” Yunyun called brightly. 

“Aye, but how many are your friends, Yunyun?” Robert asked. 

Yunyun blinked. “I told you. There are 3,241 people in Winter Town. I’ll be quick! Come on, Theon, you promised you’d help me!”

“I suppose I did, though I didn’t think his grace would consent to let you visit every last house and home in the town,” her father’s ward laughed, but he climbed up into the wagon seat, and flicked the reins, driving Yunyun’s gifts out before the King’s Wheelhouse. 

Robert watched her go, then turned incredulously to Eddard. “Goddesses be good, Ned, she can’t be serious, can she?”

“My daughter,” Eddard drawled, slouching slightly in the saddle. “Has several books in her room, neat and tidy as my stewards. She calls them her ‘Friendship Journals.’ In them, she has a list of every single person she considers her friend. Which is just about every person she’s ever met. She lists their name day, their favorite foods, who their family is, where they live, what they do for a living, their likes and dislikes, what they need or what, and various other small details.

“Every day, she compiles a list for my stewards of which of her friends are getting gifts. They are small things. For a crofter's sons, perhaps a pair of wooden swords for their name day. For an old widow, some of the leftover food from my kitchens to be delivered to their doorstep. Mayhaps a pair of new shoes for an orphan girl, or mayhaps a job for the girl baking bread or weaving in the town.”

Robert gaped at Eddard, who continued. 

  
“In winter time, Yunyun has organized gangs of boys and young men to chop firewood for the elderly, the sick, and the weak. In summer, she puts together teams to bring in extra game or wild mushrooms, berries, and fruit, and stores them for a time of need to distribute. If someone is sick, the first person to hear is Yunyun. If she can’t visit herself, she makes sure that someone does.”

“That’s...does the girl fancy herself Lord of Winterfell?” Robert asked, clearly unable to comprehend this. 

Robb laughed as he walked by the king. “Your grace, if I were to inform our people I was abdicating in favor of Yunyun, I can’t think of a single one of the small folk who would object, and there would be precious few of our bannermen who would either. Even Lord Bolton has been known to smile in her presence.”

“You let your daughter consort with the small folk and commoners?” Robert demanded, still unable to wrap his head around the concept. 

“I’d have to tie her to her bed posts to stop it,” Eddard admitted ruefully. “From the time she could walk and talk, Yunyun made friends with everyone. People think that Megumin is the odd one of my twin daughters. It’s true Megumin is more vocal in her peculiarities, and that she had a tendency to make herself the center of attention in every situation. It is Yunyun, however, who is the truly strange one to most people's way of thinking. I don’t think she really understands that a Lord and Lady should stand apart from their people. And, if I’m honest, I’m starting to question the wisdom of such practices myself. My people have never been more content, more loyal, or better cared for than since my daughter began her crusade.”

Indeed, when the king rode out of Winterfell, he found that people were lining the streets not for him, nor even for the Lord of Winterfell, but to say goodbye to Yunyun Stark, their beloved lady. 

Robert and the King’s company watched as Yunyun and her sister, though Megumin quickly grew bored and dragged Kazuma off only the goddesses knew where, said goodbye by name to every last person who came to see her, and gave them what seemed to be a personalized gift. She clasped hands, hugged, laughed, and cried with each of them. It was well past midday by the time the party made its way out of Winter Town, but that wasn’t the end of it. 

It seemed as though every hundred yards, some crofter or their family, or even just an old woman, would appear beside the road. Then Yunyun would hurry over, greet them by name, exchange pleasantries, and give them a gift from her now nearly empty cart. 

“You take good care of our Lady Yunyun now, your Grace,” an old crone with a particularly hideous face that Yunyun referred to as, “My good friend Mrs. Heddy” scolded the king. “She’s a sweet young thing. Don’t want no Southrons corrupting our dear lady.”

Though he was certain he should have been offended, Robert only nodded gravely. “I’ll do that.”

After all, Yunyun was Robert’s friend. How could he do anything else?

========================================================================

More than two months after departing Winterfell, Kazuma realized something was wrong. On the trip up, he’d spent days without leaving the wheelhouse, and they’d been making better time then. Sure, at first, Kazuma had resented being dragged out of his comfortable chambers and forced into the bouncy, rickety giant wagon, but he had his books, and he and Tyrion had spent long hours playing various games, and he’d spent plenty of time with his siblings goofing off, so it wasn’t all bad. 

But he had done hardly any of that. Instead, he'd been spending time outside. Which meant...

“Goddesses help me, I have a tan!” Kazuma said in horror, looking down at his arms, which had indeed attained a healthy glow from time spent in the sun. 

“That’s what happens when you spend less time with your nose in a book, and more time out riding,” his Uncle Jamie chuckled. Kazuma glared at the man. 

  
“You’re not helping. This is going to ruin my reputation when we get back to King’s Landing.”

Jamie paused in the act of raising his wine cup to his lips, and eyed his nephew. “Your highness, considering your reputation was that of a recluse who only left his chambers to pilfer the undergarments of young ladies, I hardly see how that could be the case.” 

“But I worked so hard at that!” Kazuma groaned, slumping in his seat. “Now people are, you know, going to expect me to  _ do  _ things. I’ll have to do prince stuff. I’ll have hardly any time for naps and gaming sessions.”

  
“And we couldn’t be prouder of you,” his mother said, kissing Kazuma on the top of the head before sitting next to him at the table. “Your uncle and I were talking just the other day about how much healthier and happier you look, my son.”

“How could I be happy when that brat keeps bothering me?” Kazuma complained. 

Jamie and Cersei shared a look that Kazuma didn’t bother to notice. If he had, he might have begun to realize just how doomed his life as a NEET was. 

It wasn’t long before said brat arrived, banging on the door of the wheel house, as was tradition by this point. 

“COME ON NEETZUMA, I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE, MYRCELLA SAID SO!” 

“Seven Hells, a maester could keep time by the girl,” Robert groaned as he staggered out of his bedchamber. “Well, boy, be off with you. Try not to do anything too foolish.”

“Yeah, OK, dad, love you too,” Kazuma grumbled, and grabbed his now somewhat weathered and stained cloak and Masamune. He gave his mother a peck on the cheek, then hurried out to where Megumin was waiting impatiently. 

“Come on, you promised we could practice today!” Megumin growled. Their two horses were already saddled and waiting, Sandor standing with the bridles in hand.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Kazuma agreed, buckling on his sword belt. “Take the day off, Sandor. Get a nap for me or something.”

“Been spending an awful lot of time alone in the woods with Lady Stark lately,” Sandor growled. “People are talking.”

“Oh relax, she’d kick me in the balls again if I tried something lewd,” Kazuma said, scrambling into the saddle. “And if something dangerous comes by, we’ll sick Chomusuke on them then run like hell. Just make sure Myrcella and Tommen don’t try to follow us, OK?”

Sandor just grunted, watching and Kazuma and Megumin rode off into the surrounding woods. After half an hour's ride, they came to the banks of the Trident, not far from where the legendary last battle of Robert’s Rebellion had been fought. Normally, Megumin would have demanded they search for the rubies from Raegar’s armor, but they had different plans for today. 

Most people assumed that Kazuma and Megumin were sneaking off for further sword lessons. Their parents would have normally found the idea of a young lord and lady spending a great deal of time alone unescorted far more scandalous, but as their fathers had agreed on a formal engagement, it was a lot less salacious than it could have been. If the prince decided to claim Megumin’s maidenhead early, well, she’d had her first flowering not long after they’d left Winterfell, and weddings could be moved up. Besides, most of the party were just grateful that Kazuma was acting more like a prince, and that Megumin was out of their hair.

Of course, both Kazuma and Megumin had no such plans or intentions, and both barely seemed to realize they were friends despite the fact that they spent nearly every waking hour together. Indeed, they didn’t even intend to spend any time practicing swordsmanship, but instead, to engage in their closely held secret.

Not long after they’d left Winterfell, Kazuma and Megumin had been practicing their sword play. Yunyun, Sandor, and Kazuma’s siblings had been with them, though they’d been a distance off gathering berries, along with the two direwolves. 

That was when a shaggy brown bear had shambled out of the trees, apparently curious about the noise the two had been making. Kazuma and Megumin had both let out similar shrieks, but then Kazuma had lowered his hand towards the bear. 

  
“Kindle!” 

A small gout of flame had spurted out, singing the bears fur. It had then decided that the two humans were absolutely not worth the trouble, and ran off even before a bellowing Sandor and howling wolves and rushed over. Megumin and Kazuma had been completely terrified by the encounter, as for all of Megumin’s brave words, she really was still just a young girl, and Kazuma had no problems with owning up to the fact that he was terrified of bears. 

They’d been bundled back to camp, lectured and scolded, but as Megumin wove increasingly bizarre tales about how she and Kazuma had fought off not one bear, but several dozen, the entire thing was dismissed as the prince claimed it had merely been a curious cub that had turned tail as soon as it had heard the screaming. 

That evening, however, Megumin had hustled Kazuma away, her red eyes glowing with excitement. “You can do  _ magic _ ?!” 

“Shhh! Keep it down! If anyone finds out about that, they’ll, I dunno, burn me at the stake or something! You’re not supposed to do magic unless you’re a septon or something!” Kazuma had shushed. 

“Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell everyone that the prince is a heretic,” Megumin had said, grinning and rubbing her hands. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Kazuma prompted, feeling his heart skip a beat. 

Megumin bared her teeth in a feral grin. “You agree to teach me.”

And so, for the past month and a half, the two youths had been finding out of the way places to practice their “magic.” Unfortunately, aside from one or two rare instances where Kazuma became angry with Megumin, no magic was forthcoming. 

There had been poses, chants, the offering of various small animals as blood sacrifice, even the cutting of their palms and attempting dark and terrible blood magics. They had called on every goddess they knew, though they had only attempted to call upon the Lord of Light once. The resulting eerie bright light and distant echoing laughter the two had heard had driven them back to the company in tears, and both had engaged in a lewd act with one another for the first time, much to their shame.

  
They still tried not to speak of the time when they’d held hands, though both Kazuma and Megumin thought of it frequently. 

Today, the two of them stood on the banks of the Trident, Chomusuke sleeping nearby, as they posed and chanted, flinging forth their hands. 

  
“Create… Earth!” Kazuma cried. He could feel something, a fuzzing welling of power, but nothing happened, again. 

“Spirits of flame and passion, I call thee!

By the heat of my soul and the red of my eyes

I summon thee forth!

KINDLE!” 

Megumin panted, her hands splayed forth as though she were attempting a hadoken, which, oddly enough, both she and Kazuma seemed to have a vague idea as to what that was. However, not even a spark or a puff of smoke manifested. 

“We should just give up,” Kazuma sighed, slumping to the ground and scratching at his head. “Face it, we’ve been trying for weeks, and all I’ve managed to do is steal your panties.”

“Which we agreed we would NEVER TALK ABOUT,” Megumin hissed, glaring at him, and crossing her legs as she flushed. 

Kazuma rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know how I did it! And you tried it too!”

“Yes, but nothing ever worked. But one day, Kazuma, I will stand over you, triumphant with your smallclothes!”

“Pff, you want them? You wanna see my princely behind?” Kazuma demanded. 

  
“N-no! Back off, Pervzuma!” Megumin stammered. 

Suddenly, Chomusuke raised her head, letting out a low growl. Both children’s heads came around, frowning as the dire wolf slowly stood, the hair on her back raising. 

“What is it, you smell a bear?” Megumin asked worriedly, taking up Chunchumaru, whose latest form consisted of a wooden practice sword. 

Kazuma looked around, frowning. Across the wide and shallow river, he spotted a man, who was peering at them. “Who’s that? Hey, who’re you?”

“Just a traveler, come for a drink,” the man shouted back. “What are you boys doing? Is your family nearby?”

“I am no boy!” Megumin snarled, jumping forward. “I am Megumin! Foremost Genius of the House of Stark, and she who will one day be Lady Commander of the Kingsguard!” 

This, of course, was Megumin’s latest obsession. Jamie had given both the prince and his lady several sword fighting lessons, and Megumin had moved the Lannister knight from “lame pretty boy” to “super amazing badass” on her list of people. 

“Megumin? You mean, you’re the daughter of a nobleman?” the man shouted back. “Who’s your friend?”

“Behold, I am Kazuma, Crown Prince of House Baratheon, and he who will one day be lord of the Seven Kingdoms!” Kazuma shouted. 

The man nodded. “Where are your retainers?”

  
“Ha! We have eluded our caretakers, and are seeking our great destiny alone! There is no one but us for miles!” Megumin boasted. She should have been paying more attention to Chomusuke’s growls. 

“That so? Well then.” The man let out a piercing whistle. Behind him, across the river, a band of rough looking men in mismatched armor and leather emerged. They had a few shaggy looking horses, bows, axes, spears, and even a rusty sword or two.

“Oh shit,” Kazuma breathed, taking half a step back. “Megumin, we gotta run.”

The men started across the ford, coming on as quickly as they could.

Megumin, however, didn’t move, as Chomusuke moved under her mistress's hand. The wolf looked up, her eyes now nearly on a level with Megumin’s. Megumin looked dazed, staggering slightly. 

“Megumin!” Kazuma cried, grabbing her hand. “We have to-”

“I shall deal with them,” Megumin said, and Chomusuke moved over, blocking Kazuma from grabbing her. 

“What, no we-”

Megumin raised her hands above her head, pointing Chunchumaru skyward, and closed her eyes. She held out her other hand, and desperately, Kazuma reached over Chomusuke and clasped it. Then, Megumin began to chant.

  
_ “Darkness, blacker than black, from my past, I call thee _

_ O Crimson of my Blood, ancient and true, arise! _ _   
_ _ My time of awakening has come; let the veil be torn! _

_ Let the wrath of Ancient Days rise once more!  _

_ My power is loosed! I claim thee, and bind thee to me! _

_ Shatter; barriers between worlds! Be sundered, laws of nature! _

_ I exert my will, let my love pour forth in violent glory! _

_ EXPLOSION!”  _

As Megmin spoke, great glowing circles appeared in the sky above the Trident. A few of the bandits paused, looking up and frowning. Others, seeing their prey simply standing there, hurried forward, their faces dark with murderous intent. When the glowing, swirling storm of rainbow sparks filled the air, a few cried out in shock, and one or two tried to turn back.

But it was far too late for that. 

The sparks slammed together as the circles above collapsed, and both Kazuma and Megumin were picked up off their feet and flung back as a massive blast enveloped the far bank of the Trident. The bandits, one and all, were reduced to nothing but ashes, and the very waters of the river to steam and vapor as the earth bucked and heaved. Kazuma and Megumin clung to one another as first the blast washed over them, then the wind howled as it was sucked back to where it had been so suddenly expelled. 

  
For long minutes, they could only lay there, gasping and terrified. Then, slowly, Kazuma sat up. He looked out at where the river had been, and saw now a great hole a hundred yards across. The very course of the river had changed, and was slowly filling in the crater as the waters surged and raged. The far bank was aflame, with trees shattered and burning for as far as he could see. On their side, the blast had toppled even great oak trees, and around the two of them lay branches and great stones. 

  
They hadn’t noticed Chomusuke shielding them from shrapnel or rebuffing a great boulder with a strike from her palm, nore seen her tail smash an oak branch out of the way of her two charges. Now, she was simply a wolf again, waiting patiently for her mistress to recover. 

“Oh shit. OH SHIT!” Kazuma wailed. He shook Megumin. “Get up! We have to run!”

“Can’t… can’t move,” Megumin slurred. “Did you see it, Kazuma? I… I used magic.”

“I saw it! EVERYONE saw that, Megumin! Holy shit, I think the goddesses saw that!”   
  


“Are… are you safe?” Megumin gasped, her eyelids drooping.

Kazuma looked to the river, where muddy waters still swirled. If there had been any survivors, they would now be swept away by the violent flood. “Yeah. I’m safe, Megumin. You...you saved us.”

“Good. Can you please carry me? I can’t… I don’t think I can move.”

Quickly, Kazuma grabbed Megumin, hauling her onto his back, where she clung weakly. He cast around for their horses, but even those well trained beasts had fled in blind panic at the burst of magic, the like of which had not been seen in Westeros since the First Age when the Old Gods and their allies had clashed with the Others. 

So, Kazuma took off running. Not towards the road and the King’s party, but away from it. In his unreasoning panic, he thought that everyone had to know it had been Megumin who had caused the disaster, and that they would want to hurt her, take her away from him. 

“We’ll run away together,” he panted as he ran, Chomususke lopping along easily at their side. “We’ll hide in the forest, become outlaws. They’ll never find us. Don’t worry, Megumin, I’ll keep you safe.”

“That’s good. How would you rate my Explosion?” Megumin asked, half asleep. 

“Ten out of ten. Best one I’ve ever seen,” Kazuma vowed. 

“I win… again,” Megumin sighed, her cheek drooping on Kazuma’s shoulder. 

Despite his intentions, Kazuma ran only for about half an hour before he was too scared and exhausted to continue further. He found a cave, which at one point had been host to a bear, and other various beasts. As it was summer time, those animals had moved away to seek out food and mates, and thus it made an excellent shelter. Kazuma lay the sleeping Megumin down, and huddled next to her with Chomusuke, who was rather amused at the humans' antics.

The wolf lay down with her sister Megumin and her chosen mate, wrapping both of them in her tail and watching dutifully over them. Chomusuke could have easily slain those enemy humans herself, even if she had simply remained as a wolf. She was as large as a bear or small horse now, and still growing; those fools would have been easy meat. Still, it had been time. Megumin’s power had been sealed away for long enough.

Watching as Kazuma’s breathing slowed, Chomusuke smiled. Soon the boy passed out, clutching to his lover of many lifetimes. Chomusuke had been there for some of them, and remembered such events vaguely. On occasion the boy had ended up with the other Crimson Demon, or even the perverted knight. Chomusuke wondered where Darkness was, but did not worry about it overly much. She was not one of the Great Goddesses, only a very small one, bound to this strange human. 

_ Sister, we come,  _ Senko, now known as Lady whispered. Chomusuke did not know the Helpful Fox well, though now she was a helpful wolf, Chomuske supposed. She was one of Holo’s, a minor Old Goddess of this world that had happily agreed to be the chosen partner of one of the Children of Destiny. 

_ Are they safe?  _ Grey Wind growled in Chomuske’s mind.

That made her bare her teeth.  _ Do you think me so careless? Mind your own charge, Tsume. _

_ That is not who I am now, and you know it. I am Grey Wind; this is my duty. _

_ Please stop fighting!  _ Lady begged.  _ You know I don’t like it when you fight, big bro, big sis! We are littermates, we should be friends! _

Both Chomusuke and Grey Wind sent scents of apology to their frantic sister, which calmed her slightly. Truly, their mother had chosen their partners well. Chomusuke well remembered being born into this world. They had been instructed by the Goddesses, old and new, in their tasks, before being deposited as pups at the roadside for the humans. Chomusuke somewhat resented being the plaything of a mortal girl again, but at least Megumin always gave good belly rubs. 

  
Besides, if the minor goddess were honest with herself, she had rather missed her strange human sister. 

It wasn’t long before the scent of sweaty prey beasts and humans filled Chomuske’s nostrils, and she nuzzled her sleeping charges. They awoke just as a frantic Robb Stark followed Grey Wind into the den, sword in one hand, torch in the other.

“Oh thank the goddesses,” Robb gasped as the children stirred. “You’re safe! We all feared you’d been killed!” 

Robb turned and yelled as Kazuma scrambled up, tears in his eyes, raising Masamune. “I won't let you hurt her!” 

  
Megumin was sobbing, clinging to Kazuma’s leg, barely able to sit up. “I’m sorry! It was my fault! Don’t blame Kazuma!” 

Robb seemed taken aback as Jamie Lannister entered the cave's narrow entrance, he and Robb pressed together in the cramped space. 

“Nephew. Lower your sword. There are only friends here,” Jamie said gently, taking a step forward and putting his own blade back in its sheath. 

Kazuma wavered, looking utterly terrified. He licked his lips. “I won’t let you take her, Uncle. Not… not even you. We’re going to run away, together! We’ll never bother anyone again, honest!” 

Jamie paused, and looked to Robb. The youth shook his head, looking as baffled as his fairer companion. “I just found them, sleeping together with Chomusuke. Grey Wind led me right to them.”

“My Prince… Kazuma, please. It’s me. We mean you no harm,” Jamie whispered, stepping forward into the reach of Masamune. Kazuma wavered, then dropped the sword with a sob, sinking to his knees. Jamie scooped him up as Robb picked up the still sniffling Megumin. Together, they stepped back outside, shouting to the other searchers. 

Chomusuke and Grey Wind nuzzled one another in apology, then followed the humans back outside. Human mating practices were very odd. But then again, their two legged siblings were odd beings, even for humans. 

Cast of Characters:

_ Yunyun as; Living her best life _

_ Chomusuke as; Wolbach, goddess of sloth and violence (and leaning more towards violence now that she’s a wolf not a cat) _

_ Senko-San as; Lady the Helpful Wolf. She’s Yunyun’s friend! _

_ Tsume of Wolf’s Rain as; Grey Wind. He’s the Serious Business Wolf. _

_ Robb Stark as; Onii-Sama _

_ Jamie Lannister as; Taking lessons from Ned.  _

_ The bandits as; Target practice _

_ And various others _

_   
_ _ With the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as Yunyun’s friends. Except the ones who aren’t. RIP them.  _

  
  



	7. Idiot Plots are Stupid Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Explosion has fallout!

_ Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon _

_ Produced by:The Grand Cognator _

_ This chapter was sponsored by Nord VPN. For when you want to keep secrets, use Nord VPN. That way, your convoluted plot won’t unravel the first time two characters get a clue and talk to one another.  _

_ Feeling withdrawal from your crack habit? Talk to your dealer about A Clash Of NEETs, which is proven to contain 50% more crack than a plumbers’ convention. Side effects may include: Loss of sanity, mad cackling, EXPLOSIONS, and excessive crossovers. _

  
  


_ Chapter 7: Idiot plots are stupid anyway _

  
Back at the camp, everyone was frantic with worry, even the King having ridden out to look for his son and Ned’s daughter. It took nearly a full day for everyone to return, during which time both of the children were given a mixture of tearful hugs, irate dressing downs, stern lectures, and much needed sleep and food. 

With them returned however, Eddard, Robert, Jamie, and Jory Cassel, head of the Stark troops, met in private, grim looks on all their faces as the men talked quietly.

“That blast was unlike anything we’ve ever seen,” Eddard informed them. “Our maesters have measured it, and even they have little knowledge as to what could have caused it. Some claim it was a fallen star, others an eruption of gas. I have my doubts as to the truth of that.”

“The children were there, we found tracks. Perhaps they know,” Jory offered.

“They refuse to speak of it, and I do not think pressing the issue will help,” Jamie said with a shake of his head. “I half suspect they are responsible.”

“Are you daft, man?” Robert demanded. “Megumin may claim she’s got some terrible dark powers, but she’s a slip of a girl! As for my son, no matter what the signs surrounding his birth, I refuse to believe he could have caused it, despite what Aqua and Eris supposedly said about him!” 

That got Jory to look up, shocked. He glanced at his own lord, frowning. “Lord Stark, does the king, er, know?”

Eddard drumed the table with his fingers, eyeing Jamie and Robert, who seemed to be sharing a silent conversation.

“Your Grace, Eddard Stark is to be your Hand. It would be wise to trust him with such things, especially if your son is to marry Lord Stark’s daughter,” Jamie said slowly. 

“Oh fuck off, Kingslayer,” Robert grumbled. But he nodded. “Ned, there’s something you need to know about my son. His birth was...odd. To say the least. Cercei says she was visited by the Goddesses themselves the night he was conceived. I don’t remember it myself, I was too deep in my cups, to my shame. But…”

“I saw them, Lord Stark,” Jamie whispered, his eyes haunted. “I was standing guard at the queen's chambers that night. They appeared to be two maidens, extremely fair to behold. And yet...not. I cannot explain, but if you asked me their age, my answer would change with each telling. Perhaps no more than sixteen summers, mere girls. Then, well past thirty, but with the years resting lightly upon them. At other times...I cannot say.”

Eddard and Jory exchanged a look, and the Captain of the Guard nodded. “I saw them myself, the second time. Only caught a glimpse as they came out of the Sept, but what I saw...your description, Ser Jamie, is accurate. I could not give them an age.”

  
“Twice, Catelyn and I have been visited by the Goddesses,” Eddard explained, meeting Robert’s eyes. “First, before the birth of the twins. Again, years later, before we had Komekko. Their words and actions were odd. I have a hard time recalling them, as though they slip through my mind, but one thing I am certain they told us: my daughters would have a terrible destiny, and great power.”

“And that they would be the salvation of the world,” Robert finished, looking pale and worn. 

“And Winter is coming,” Ned agreed. 

Robert reached for his cup of wine, then hesitated. “Get me some water, Jamie. I need a clear head for this.”

Jamie bowed, and returned with goblets for everyone. He even poured even for Jory, who nodded his thanks. 

“They’re too young for this,” Robert muttered, taking a pull of water and making a face. “Seven Hells, Kazuma’s barely more than a boy. And a foolish one at that. Do you think he…?”

“I don’t know,” Eddard admitted. “The ways of the goddesses are strange.”

“And not for men to know,” Robert snarled, slamming his cup down. “But dammit, Ned, we have to know! Fuck the kingdoms, that’s my son and your girl! I...well, I know I’m not the best father, but I love my son. He’s odd, to be certain, but he’s a good lad. Kind, gentle, and strong when he wants to be. He’ll be a better king than I, one day.”

“I have little experience with Southron goddesses, save for when they visited my bedchamber unannounced,” Eddard said slowly. “I cannot see into their minds, nor fathom their plots. We need someone who can.” He looked to Jory, who winced.

“Gods be good, my lord. Not her,” his captain groaned. 

Eddard pressed his lips together. “If anyone knows the mind of Aqua, it is her. Fetch her, Jory.”

Jory bowed, and exited the tent. Robert and Jamie eyed Eddard, wary looks on their faces. 

  
“Who is this woman? Yunyun?” Jamie asked. 

“No, my other daughter would have to be pried from her sister by force, and I don’t know a man in the camps with the heart to do it,” Eddard said. “This is...another strange woman. She is...well, she is an Axis Septa.”

Robert brightened considerably at that, until Nedd added, “Who prefers women. I swear, I’d have expelled her years ago if she wasn’t the only person I’ve ever met who can manage to get lessons into Megumin’s head. My daughter had driven off five tutors and twice as many nurses before the Scepta arrived.”

“The Axis Cult,” Jamie groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. “If they weren’t so popular, I would think they’d have been disbanded years ago. The other cults can be strange enough, but the Axis…”

“Is the best one of all!” Jamie and Robert jumped as a ray of sunshine flounced into the tent, and sat down next to Eddard, a wide grin on her face. “Come on, big guy, you know you love us! Everyone does! You know what they say! All Love is good, and nobody loves more than Aqua!” 

“Your grace, I present to you Septa Cecily. My daughter’s tutor and minder,” Eddard said, trying very hard not to sigh heavily. 

“How’s it going, Bobby B? Big fan, you know! You’re Aqua’s favorite king in ages!” Cecily declared. She snatched up a cup, took a drink, and made a face. “What, water? Wow, you Lords are boring. Come on! Life’s short, so have fun while you’re here!”

“...I don’t know that I want a clear head for this anymore,” Robert muttered, then shook himself. “Alright Ned, didn’t think you'd have a pet Axis Septa. Though you would choose one that wouldn’t jump into bed with you. Only reason anyone tolerates them, I swear.”

“Aww, I’d go a round with Lady Stark, and maybe Eddy too if he’s good!” Cecily laughed. She winked at the king. “You want to have some fun, you let me know, tiger. Everyone’s heard about Lil’ Bobby. Bring your wife, it’ll be fun!”

Jamie flushed and clenched his jaw, but the king slammed a fist onto the table and roared, “Seven Hells woman, I’m worried about the life of my son! Now what do you know about that damnable explosion that nearly killed Kazuma and Megumin!” 

“Sheesh, relax, you’ll give yourself a heart attack,” Cecily muttered. She sighed and rested her head on one hand, eyeing Eddard Stark. “You know boss, this would be a lot easier if you ever bothered coming to church. It’s fun! We sing songs and stuff.”

Eddard didn’t respond, having long ago learned that engaging Cecily in banter was a sure way to get no answers and a massive headache. 

“Ok, so, you two are church going men, right?” Cecily asked. “Don’t have to explain the basics to you?”

“Woman, I am about ten seconds from tossing you out of this tent and having Ser Illyian beat some manners into you!” Robert shouted. “Do you know anything, or are you just taunting us?!”

  
“Fine, whatever. Megumin and Kazuma are Children of Destiny. That means they’re been chosen by the gods, blah blah blah, religious stuff, reincarnation of ancient heroes. Point is, if you're wondering where this explosion came from, I’d bet it came from the two of them,” Cecily declared. 

“My son is no bloody sorcerer!” Robert snapped. “He’s...well...Kazuma has always been a bit queer, you see, but he’s not capable of...that!” The king gestured vaguely towards where the crater resided. 

“Begging your pardon, your grace, but Kazuma has displayed many rather unusual skills,” Jamie mused, rubbing his stubbled chin, as none of the men had shaved that day. “There’s his uncanny aim with the bow and sling, and his sword fighting ability.”

“Talk sense, Lannister! He’s a twelve year old boy! He’s been practicing the sword and boy since he was old enough to walk!” the King barked. Then he frowned. “Or, no, wait. He’s been avoiding practicing them. Seven Hells, I practically have to drag him out to the yard, and half the time I give up before we get there. I suppose you haven’t had much better luck.”   
  


Jamie shook his head ruefully. “And as Ser Roderik pointed out in Winterfell, Kazuma doesn’t fight like a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. He fights like a Bravo, and a master at that. I certainly didn’t teach him to ‘throw dirt in their eye and kick them in the balls’ but he’s got Tommen doing it as well.”

“That’s true enough. I always thought he just did it to infuriate me, as the lad seems to reveal in that,” Robert muttered, stroking his own beard. He glanced up at Eddard. “Don’t tell me Megumin has shown some magical talent. The maesters tell us magic’s been extinct since the Doom.”

“Ehh, kinda,” Cecily said, tilting one hand back and forth as she made a face. “The Goddesses locked magic away to keep mortals safe, that’s true. But they also grant it to a chosen few. Septas have always been able to do minor magic. You know, like the Cult of Renewal can heal people, and Axis members can purify water. However, Aqua also grants special favors. Your kids are chosen by her. That means they’ve got a lot more magic than a normal mortal hidden away for time of need.”

“There have been...strange things,” Eddard admitted. “Nothing like this, and, well as often with Komekko or Yunyun as Megumin. But...they can see in the dark. We’d find the girls wandering the halls of Winterfell in the dead of night with no candle or lantern, able to see better than you or I at midday. At times, Megumin has managed things I wouldn’t have thought possible. We mostly consider it a result of her youthful fervor, but…”

“I’ve told you, blessings from the Goddess,” Cecily declared. “Aqua said they’re got power, here’s your proof. Plus, I’ve told you, when I’m tutoring her, Megumin just knows things. It’s more than her just being smart, because she is, but she and her sisters just figure things out too fast. Her figuring out how to blow something up just makes sense.”

“Power like that,” Robert mused. “It could annihilate an entire army with a single blow.”

That idea made Eddard’s face darken. “You are not turning my daughters into weapons, Robert.”

“Oh, nay, no, not now,” Robert agreed, still looking thoughtful. “The Seven Kingdoms are at peace, for now. But we’ve enemies, Ned. A display of power like that...makes a man think is all. Besides, could have been my son that set that off.”

  
“Why don’t we just ask them?” Cecily demanded. 

  
“You think we haven’t tried that, woman?” Robert growled, going flushed in the face. “The two of them just say they got scared and ran!”

“I’ll talk to my daughter, and Kazuma,” Eddard promised, standing. “It’s been more than a day, and they’ve had a night of sleep. Best if we talk about it now.”

“I’ll come with you,” Robert said, trying to rise, but struggling to do so in the narrow confines of the tent. 

“Begging your pardon, your grace, but I think it’s best if I try alone first. Megumin is fierce, but she has a shy side when she thinks she’s in trouble. If she won’t talk to me, I’d suggest we send Yunyun. She can’t keep a secret from her sister.”

That seemed to irritate Robert, but he jerked a nod. “Very well. I suppose screaming at the foolish boy won’t get him to open up. If he thinks you’re pressuring him Kazuma will turn the entire thing into a jape. Damn! If only Tyrion were here, he could get the boy to talk.”

“He’s still likely at the wall, or not yet returned to Winterfell,” Jamie sighed. “I’m half surprised he didn’t try to take Kazuma with him.”

“Boy’s too lazy for that, knows better than to go where it’s so bloody cold. Very well, Ned, see if you can get them to talk, then have Yunyun try it. I swear, that girl could get a stone to speak if you left it with her.”

Robert couldn’t have known that Yunyun had, in a previous life, indeed mastered the Speak with Stone spell, specifically so she could make friends with rocks as no one else seemed to want to talk with her. 

Eddard found his daughters not in their tent, but in the king’s wheelhouse with the princes and princess. Robb was sitting outside of the door, talking quietly with the queen. He stood as his father approached, looking deeply troubled. 

“They still won’t say what has happened. I’ve not seen Megumin like this before, father. Something scared her, badly.”

“My son is...unwell,” Cersei admitted. “I’ve tried to speak to him, but he won’t allow himself to be separated from Megumin.” She swallowed, and put a hand on Eddard’s arm. “Lord Stark, my son...he seems fond of you. Perhaps this time, a father can coax from him what a mother cannot?”

“I will do what I can, my lady,” Eddard replied, gently taking Cercei’s hand and giving it a squeeze. To think he was growing close to the Lannisters...Lysa’s letter had indicated that they had murdered Jon Arryn, but...it was growing harder to think of them as rivals and strangers. Not when Myrcella hopped in Eddard’s lap at times, or when Tommen showed him a pretty feather he’d found, or when Kazuma was clearly becoming Megumin’s closest companion. 

Eddard quietly got Yunyun to take the other children away, and closed the door. Megumin and Kazuma eyed him, and he noticed the two slid close to one another, taking each other's hand. It was hurtful, seeing his daughter clearly mistrust him and instead look to another man for comfort, but it also brought joy. Every father knew that one day, their little girl would grow up and find a man to replace him as their protector and confidant. It seemed that day had come sooner for Megumin than most. 

“First, before we begin, let me say that I’m not angry,” Eddard said quietly. “Quite the opposite: I’m frightened for the two of you. That blast could have killed you. If it had… nothing could have caused me greater pain. So this is why I ask you again: what happened? I promise, nothing you say will rouse me to anger, nor shall it incur punishment on you. I will weigh your words, and not dismiss what you say out of hand. No matter how wild the tale.”

Kazuma swallowed. “We told you, it was a falling star, we-”

  
“Kazuma,” Megumin whispered, squeezing the prince’s hand. “He’s my dad. We...we have to tell someone. What if there were more?”

“I...OK. I trust you,” the prince said, swallowing hard. 

Megumin took a deep breath. “We were… playing. Well, practicing. Not… not sword fighting. I know that’s what you think we’re doing… but… ”

“We weren’t doing anything lewd!” Kazuma swore. Then he looked down, seeming to realize he was holding Megumin’s hand. He seemed to almost jerk away, then steeled himself. “Well, OK, we have held hands sometimes.”

“N-not all the time! I’m not a pervert!” Megumin stammered. 

  
Eddard hid a smile behind his hand. “Considering that the two of you are betrothed, I hardly think holding the hand of your future Lord would be considered improper, Megumin. Now. What were you practicing?”

“Magic,” Megumin admitted quietly. 

“I...I can do magic. Sometimes,” Kazuma admitted, and Eddard felt his heart leap. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, relief, or both.

“The blast wasn’t Kazuma though,” Megumin added, looking down, and dread began to fill Eddard’s heart. “That… that was me.”

“There were bandits,” Kazuma whispered. “We… we were alone, and they came after us. We couldn’t run away, there were too many. Megumin… she saved us.”

“Bandits?” Eddard said, and despite having given his word, fury did flush his face, and he tightened his fists. He saw fear in the children’s eyes, and hasten to reassure them. “I am sorry. I am not wroth at the idea you slew some brigands. Only at the thought that men would dare to try to harm my daughter. I suppose it was foolish to allow you to wander off alone, even with Chomusuke. I thought this area well patrolled.” 

“I don’t really know what happened,” Megumin admitted. “Whenever I’d tried to use magic before, the way Kazuma does it, nothing would happen. It never really felt right. But, when I knew they were going to try to hurt him… I just… I could do it. It was like… like there really was a dark power within my blood, calling to me. And I just… answered it.”

Eddard leaned back, considering this. At last, he nodded. “I can accept that. You’ve been told your birth was marked by strange omens. This seems sure proof of it. But, why did you run? Why not come to us?”

“I was scared. I thought… I thought everyone would be angry, that we’d done magic. The maesters say magic is dangerous, evil, old,” Kazuma whispered as he and Megumin wrapped their arms about one another, shivering. “I thought someone would take her away. And… and I couldn’t let that happen. So… I was going to run away with her. Somewhere safe, where no one could ever separate us.”

“I couldn’t move on my own, but I would have gone with Kazuma anywhere,” Megumin said fiercely. “With Chomusuke, we could have survived.”

“It saddens me that you would think I would ever allow anything to happen to either of you,” Eddard said, and moved forward, putting his arms around both children. They clung to him, and he could feel Megumin shuddering as she sobbed. Kazuma trembled, obviously trying to hold back tears of his own. “This I promise, to both of you: no matter what happens, no matter who comes against you, I’ll always be your father, Megumin. And, perhaps yours as well, Kazuma. Nothing in this world is more important to me than the both of you. You can always come to me. Or your own mother, Kazuma. She loves you dearly. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do, but…” Kazuam swallowed. “If I had to pick… I was going to pick Megumin.”

“A wise choice for a man to make, concerning his future wife,” Eddard chuckled. He gave one last squeeze, then stood. “We’re going to have to tell your parents, Kazuma. The fact that you can do magic-”

The door suddenly slid open, and Yunyun tumbled into the room. She jerked upright, looking up at her father with a guilty expression, but then scrambled over to Megumin. “You can do magic too?! I thought it was just me!”

“You-what?” Eddard gasped. 

Megumin’s eyes went very wide as her sister grabbed her by the shoulders, still babbling. “At first it was just the needles, but then I could change the color of the thread, and one time when I thought Komekko was going to fall I accidentally made her light and she really did fall, except she sort of floated and-”

“How long have you been able to do magic?” Megumin demanded suspiciously, her eyes narrowing.

“Um, well….”

“How long?!” Megumin growled, reaching up and grabbing her sister’s arms. 

“Um. Six years.”

“Six years and you didn’t tell me!? You’ve had this incredible power the entire time!?” Megumin raged, shaking her sister violently. 

Eddard separated the two as Yunyun started to sob. “That’s enough! I know you’re still frightened, but this has to stop, now. What about Komekko?”

Yunyun and Megumin exchanged looks.

“You know Vanir’s real, right?” Megumin asked slowly. 

Eddard felt a chill run down his spine. “What do you mean, Vanir is real?”

“Nothing!” the girls said in unison. They gave their father a big smile.

  
“Want to see me do another Explosion?” Megumin offered. 

Head spinning, Eddard had to reach out to the door frame to steady himself. “Let’s… defer on any further explosions for now. That was dangerous. Such things should only be done in time of need. Not on a whim.”

  
“Oh, ok. I guess I can wait to unleash my incredible power again,” Megumin muttered. She glanced at Kazuma. “What about him?”

Eddard frowned, studying the prince as he fidgeted slightly. “What magic can you perform?”

“Just small stuff. I can make a flame, or summon earth. Other stuff too, I think. I just… I can’t do it all the time. I’ve only managed it when I’m scared, or angry, or someone’s in danger, or I think they’re in danger,” Kazuma admitted, rubbing the back of his head and giving Eddard a self deprecating smile.. 

“Then we shall need to practice. And before you suggest it, Megumin, I am not allowing my daughter to put herself, or anyone else, in danger real or imagined. There are other ways to train a discipline. We should also see if perhaps we can find a Maester with a Valyrian Steel link to aid us. Yunyun, can you show us your magic?”

“Yes! It’s not very hard, really, once you know how to do it. Come on, Megumin, I’ll teach you!” Yunyun said eagerly, and the two girls hurried off, leaving Eddard alone with the prince. He rose, but Kazuma grabbed his sleeve. 

“Hey, um wait. What you said, about me and Megumin getting married...are you serious?”

Nodding, Eddard sat back down. “I am. Your father and I have made such an arrangement formally. It will be years yet; though Megumin has flowered, you are not yet a man grown. I think it best to wait until that day.”   
  


“Yeah, probably,” Kazuma agreed, looking relieved. Then he looked away. “But...what if she doesn’t want to marry me?”

Despite himself, Eddard chuckled. “Then I suppose you have the next three years to convince her, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Kazuma said slowly, nodding to himself. “I guess I do. Thanks, um, Lord Stark.”

“In private, call me Ned. Your father does. I think we know one another well enough now, don’t we, Kazuma?”

The prince looked up, and this time, his smile was genuine, even boyish. “Yeah, I guess so, Ned.”

Then he hopped up and ran out of the wheelhouse, shouting, “Hey, Megumin, wait up!” 

Eddard stopped by Cersei, who gave him a worried, questioning look. He gave her a grim nod. “We’d best find Robert. I think this is something both of you need to hear.”

Goddesses be good. Just what was happening to his children? Eddard wished Catelyn was here. He’d have to tell her, somehow. Because he suspected that Komekko, and more worryingly, Vanir, had strange abilities of her own. 

Cast of Characters

_ Cecily as; Septa Mordane. And also Queen of Thirst. _

_ Eddard Stark as; One concerned father. _

_ Bobby B as; Aqua’s Meme Lord. _

_ Cersei Lannister as; Actually a human being. _

_ Jamie Lannister as; Yeah, you were definitely OUTSIDE the queens chambers, pal. _

_ Aqua as; All love is good, be you lolicon, NEET, or have a brother/sister complex.  _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as so not ready for this. _


	8. Prologue: Bored Goddesses are the Most Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally prologues go at the beginning, but I thought of this now.

A Clash of NEETs: Prologue

Bored Goddesses are the most Dangerous

Just like its owner, Aqua's apartment in the Divine Realm was cluttered, disorganized, and rather chaotic. It was clean, mostly because as a goddess Aqua had access to the Heavenly Host Cleaning Service, which was top notch. Aqua claimed she could find anything and everything in her room. Given enough time, it was even mostly true.

"Hey, Eris, what should we watch tonight?" Aqua called as she dug through her disorganized bookshelf of mixed DVDs, VHS, Blue Ray, and even betamax.

The Goddess of Fortune had her feat up on the end of one of Aqua's overstuffed, slightly stained, and very comfortable love seats, her head resting against the other end. She had taken off her formal robes for the day, and was dressed more like Chris the Thief, in jean shorts and a sweater that somehow left her navel bear. Currently, she was tapping away at her phone, answering a few last minute prayers. "I dunno, you pick something. Maybe something from the gangs adventures. Not the Belzerg arc though, we watched that last decade."

Aqua looked up, holding up two colorful box arts of Konosuba Season 4 and 6. "Aww, but I like the one where we visit Elroad."

"Chris isn't even in that one. Pick something else," Eris ordered, still typing on her phone and not bothering to look up.

"Why do you care so much about Chris anyway?" Aqua grumbled, and bent over again to rifle through the box, her loose hair spilling over her shoulders. She was out of uniform as well, and had on sweat pants and a sweat shirt, both rather grungy from millennia of use.

Eris rolled her eyes. She still couldn't believe Aqua had never figured it out, but by this point she didn't want to give up the game.

"Oh, what about the Reverse Isekai one? Where we incarnated Megumin and Darkness as high school students?"Aqua called, her head half hidden in the recess of her massive collection.

"Eh, that arc was kinda boring. What about the one where you did the gender bender thing?" Eris suggested.

"I can't find it, I think Kazuma hid it. He's so embarrassed about it. Mortals are so weird about that sort of thing. It's not like they even remember when their soul switches gender. Oh! I found the one where we did the Super Hero AU! You remember, My Chunni Academia?"

Eris shrugged, closing her prayer app and opening up Mana Binge. "Meh. Boring. That was basically the same as the time you got Madoka to let us create a alternate universe and you sent them all to British Boarding school. Hey, what do you want to eat? I'm getting sushi and ice cream."

"Get me some bubbly and fish and chips. Ice cream does sound good though. Man, we've seen all these shows before," Aqua complained, standing back and planting her hands on her hips.

Eris nodded, putting in her food order. She was just about to put her phone away when she got an email from Madoka.

"Make sure you remind Aqua she's supposed to be sending some reincarnators to Planetos. She's got to fix that whole Kinslayer debacle. I'm keeping an eye on her. I know Aerys II wasn't her fault, but the Targaryen's have turned into a mess, and not the fun kind."

"Aqua, did you remember to send someone to Planetos?" Eris called.

"Huh?" Aqua pulled out her own phone, tapping at it. "Oh, yeah. That's this decade isn't it? I guess I should do that before we relax for the weekend."

"Come on, you do have a plan, right? Remember what happened the last time you just threw power at a problem on Planetos?" Eris needled.

"Ugh, no need to remind me. Everyone still complains about the Kinslayer. It's been 300 years! Besides, Madoka fixed that with the Targaryens, right?" Aqua asked, coming over and slumping into her armchair with a scowl on her face.

"You haven't been paying attention again," Eris sighed, shaking her head. "The Targaryen's are about to get overthrown by a rebellion in a few years. They've lost the Mandate of Heaven. I think Madoka's totally done with them this time. Athena's still sulking about that, she really liked them."

"Dragon Lords were pretty kick ass," Aqua agreed. She frowned. "Man, I guess I should just go find some Japanese schmucks and Isekai them or something. Planetos is so hard to manage. I blame that asshole god who keeps interfering. What was his name?"

"Just call him the Red God, it irritates him," Eris suggested.

"Fine.," Aqua swiped through her phone, looking at her options for reincarnators. "Oh hey, Iris is up for reincarnation."

"Really? Where did you have her?" Eris asked curiously.

"An AU. I made her the first woman president of the United States. Youngest in history too! Let me see, she left a comment. 'That was fun, but you forgot to send Big Bro with me again. When am I going to get to marry Kazuma?' Then she left me three stars. THREE STARS! That's a travesty! She even fixed their economy, redid their educational system, and married a nice boy from Texas. Ugh. There is no pleasing that girl."

"You should just send her to Planetos. She can probably sort it all out no problem," Eris offered. "The Targeryen's even do that sibling marriage thing, that should calm her down a bit."

"Yeah but Kazuma would get super grossed out and leave me a one star review again if he married his literal sister," Aqua said. "Huh. Yunyun just came back too. She left me five stars. I knew doing an AU where I replaced Stalin with her and Trotsky with Megumin was perfect. I even had Komekko as Khrushchev!"

"Really? Where was Kazuma?" Eris asked.

"Oh, he was a girl too, he left me one star again, but it was a lolicon yuri AU. I really ought to stop letting Cecily put together my reincarnator packages. Megumin gave it a 5/5 since she got to nuke the United States. Cecily's ideas are fun, but they're really derivative."

Eris rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe if she didn't spend all her time as your secretary. Let me guess, did that AU end with everyone dying in a nuclear apocalypse?"

"Yeah but we're going to spin it into a Fall Out knock off. We could watch the tapes from that one, should be fun," Aqua suggested.

"Eh. I'm not into the Doctor Strangelove stuff even if Megumin is," Eris told Aqua. "Plus, you really do need to figure out what you're going to do with Planetos. Just throw Iris at it and you're going to end up with another Kinslayer situation."

"Will everyone just leave me alone with the Kinslayer stuff? Sheesh. Maybe if I go fumigate Harrenhal again they'll quit whining. Satella STILL won't shut up about how much of a problem the Cult of the Other is in Dorne," Aqua whined.

"I mean that was all mostly your fault," Eris pointed out. When Aqua glared at her, she shrugged. "If you'd just waited like Madoka wanted, we would have dealt with the Endless Summer before that much longer. As it is, you screwed everything up and the Others are going to be a serious problem again. Not to mention that asshole in Essos."

"Ugh, you're right," Aqua grumbled. Then, she brightened. "Wait. I have everyone! Dust and Lean are still in storage, Claire and Rain were Iris's bodyguards in her last life and they're going through processing, and Komekko is still on parole after taking over hell again."

"What, she didn't get a further penalty for helping Megumin nuke an entire world?" Eris asked.

"I mean, she did, but you can only get so many negative karma points. But think about it, Eris! We could have everyone! Darkness was General Zhukov so she's here too, I have the entire gang! We can just send them all to Planetos! You have Chris somewhere, right? She could go too!"

"Um, that, er, Chris is busy," Eris stammered. She really did not have time right now to take a lifetime off and fool around with Kazuma. As much as she wished she could. Actually, that sounded really, really fun, and Eris was tempted to ask for the time off. No, no, she had duties. But if she could find a way... "But let's think about this, Aqua. Plantos is complicated. There's all the noble houses that are plotting, the situation in Essos, Nyrako to worry about, and even Holo up in the North."

"Hmm, yeah, that's true." Aqua tapped her chin, then picked up her phone. "Hey, Cecily, come over to my place real quick. No, this is not a booty call. You know I'm a maiden goddess. Look, I think I might have an idea to reincarnate you. Yes, there will be cute girls. How many? Um, let's see. I've got Claire, Rain, Iris, Megumin, Yunyun, Komeko-"

The front door slammed as Cecily rushed into the room, still wearing her office uniform. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?! Now what's this about putting me in a world with all those cutie pies?!"

"Cecily, look. The lolicon thing was funny once, but you're taking it too far," Aqua sighed, rubbing her forehead. "If I reincarnate you, we're getting rid of that."

Cecily froze, a look of horror on her face. "You...you wouldn't really do that, would you?"

Aqua and Eris gave the former nun a flat look. Eris shook her head in exasperation. "Look, we're not going to make you into something your not. We're just...we're going to be raising the age restriction on your preferences."

"So...I'll still like cute girls?" Cecily asked, frowning suspiciously.

"Let's go with attractive women, OK?" Aqua said, patting Cecily on the back. "Now look, I've got basically all my favorite reincarnators up as options, and I need to send them to Planetos."

At the mention of "Planetos" Cecily jumped up and sprinted back for the door. She tried to open it, only for it to now be magically sealed. She sprang up, planting one foot on the door frame and tugging, before gripping the doorknob in both hands and grunting as she twisted, finally even putting both feet on the door and jerking side to side.

"Oh come on. It's not that bad!" Aqua declared, planting her hands on her hips.

"Look, I watched Game of Thrones, that place is a hell hole!" Cecily snapped, turning to glare at Aqua as she wiped some sweat and damp hair from her forehead.

"Game of Thrones?" Aqua asked, looking to Eris, who shrugged helplessly. "Where did you watch Game of Thrones?"

Cecily went pale, and tapped her index fingers together as she stammered. "Oh, um, nowhere, I just, I, er-"

"You got it from Vanir, didn't you!" Eris accused, standing to go over and poke Cecily in the chest. The Axis Priestess wilted, looking rather guilty.

"I just...Natalie Dormer is so hot! She's a bit old, but...I'll do it if you let me bang Margaery Tyrell, OK?"

"Who the hell is Margaery Tyrell?" Aqua demanded.

"Wait...what year is it on Planetos right now?" Cecily asked, her forehead wrinkling.

"It's 270 years after Aegon I Targaryen took the Iron Throne," Eris supplied while Aqua was still counting on her fingers and muttering to herself.

"Wait so...that's before Robert's Rebellion right?" Cecily did some considering. "Oh man, that means I can meet Bobby B! He's like the best!"

"I thought you didn't like guys?" Aqua demanded, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at her favorite worshiper.

"For him, I'll make an exception," Cecily vowed, then frowned. "Wait, do they still hate gays and stuff there?"

"Huh? No! The Seven Goddesses are in charge, and I put my foot down on that sort of stuff!" Aqua huffed. "Even Holo's coming around, and Hestia's OK with it since we instituted the heir and surrogacy reforms."

"Well, alright. You um, you've really never seen Game of Thrones?" Cecily asked tentatively. The goddesses shook their heads. A slow, evil smile spread over the Axis Cultists face. "Well then. I have some ideas. You say everyone, right? Dust and them? Just er, not Mitsurugi, right?"

"He's super boring, don't bother with him," Aqua reassured Cecily.

Rubbing her hands gleefully, Cecily looked to Eris. "And Chris? She's a cutie too, you know..."

"You let me worry about her," Eris snapped. Cecily gave her a lecherous grin, which made Eris blush. "Look, I'll try, OK?"

"Oh you let me know if you want to shed that maiden status," Cecily chuckled throatily, the evil light still in her eyes. "Now, what's the whole goal here? Stop the Others, right?"

"Yep, them and the Lord of Light," Aqua agreed.

"Eh, easy. Megumin and Yunyun could handle it on their own. Which means we have more time for Shipping and Slapstick, my favorite things! Now, I have some ideas about where we want to put everyone. We'll start with the Great Houses..." Cecily laid out the basics of a plan, and over the next few years, she, Eris, and Aqua hashed things out in fine detail. In the end, Planetos ended up with fully a dozen reincarnators, spread out to the Nine Great Houses, with Cecily even ending up as Brynden Tully's bastard daughter.

And, Eris even managed to find a way to work Chris in. Even if it did somewhat tarnish her reputation.


	9. You Can Take the Chuuni Out of the North...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazuma and Megumin prove that they are terrible influences on one another and that Westeros is just not ready for this.

Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon

Produced by: The Grand Cogitator

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Part of this complete crack fic!

_Chapter 8: You Can Take the Chuuni Out of the North…_   


  
The Red Keep was never completely empty, but there were times when it was less busy. Despite the Winter cold, the King had taken it upon himself to go hunting in the Kingswood, after a particularly unpleasant argument with his lady wife. He’d also taken Cersei’s newest handmaiden with him, and she had a feeling when he came back, the stupid whore would have a swollen belly, and would be bundled off somewhere out of sight.  
  
Part of Cersei was glad. It meant she wouldn’t have to worry about taking that oaf into her bed again anytime soon. Part of her was furious. She was the queen. And yet, her husband loved a woman long dead, or the various whores and servants he tumbled. This time he even had the audacity to take a noblewomen to bed, even if she was a minor one.  
  
Which was why Cersei didn’t feel the least bit guilty that her brother was sharing her bed again. She wondered if she’d catch? If she did, she’d have to take Robert to her bed again. The thought of that man putting his hands on her was galling, but it was a small price to pay she supposed. What sweet revenge it would be for her to put a cuckoo on the throne, a pure Lannister instead of Robert’s ill-begotten spawn.  
  
Cersei heard a noise, and languidly sat up. Jamie was pulling on his tunic, but he’d frozen, and Cersei’s heart skipped a beat. She’d left strict orders! Who would-  
  
A sudden blue light filled the chamber, and brother and sister shielded their eyes, even as Jamie grabbed his sword and sprang forward to defend his sister and lover.  
  
“Greetings, Mortals! I-ACK!”  
  
There was the ringing of steel, and when Cersei managed to clear her eyes she found a woman in a long robe with a feathered mantle and two daggers in her hands standing over Jamie, who was on the ground, his sword knocked from his hands. Behind the woman with the daggers cowered a blue haired maiden, who was-  
  
“YOU STUPID JERK! IS THAT HOW YOU GREET GODDESSES WHO COME TO GRANT YOU A BLESSING!?”  
  
“Aqua, you did just jump up and start yelling at him,” the dagger woman sighed. Her blades suddenly vanished with a twirl of her fingers. “Where’s the king anyway? I thought you said Cersei Lannister was supposed to bear Kazuma.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s why we had to wait until Bobby B was gone, Eris. Cersei doesn’t want to have his kids, she wants to have Jamie’s,” the blue haired one explained, coming around. She gave Cersei a big smile. “Hey, what’s up? So, you’re totally in luck! Because I, Aqua Goddess of Water, believe all love is good, be you lolicon, NEET, or have a brother complex, I-”  
  
“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister? Twins?” the first woman said as Jamie slowly got to his feet. She spread her hands, and a book appeared in a sparkle of silver light. “Oh my me, Aqua. They ARE twins! Kazuma would be a bastard!”  
  
“He is a bastard, and a NEET. Plus, all of Bobby B’s kids are bastards anyway, and Cersei keeps praying to me for a kid and to let her love her brother so I’m answering her prayers. Come on, Eris, this makes the most sense!”  
  
“J-Jamie?” Cersei stammered. “Are, are these?”  
  
“Hold up, just a sec,” the woman Cersei was increasingly certain was the Goddess Aqua said. She turned to the other, who had to be Eris. “Look, all love is good, right?”  
  
“Well, I mean-”  
  
“And they love each other, right?”  
  
“Er, yes, but-”  
  
“So what’s the problem!? Athena’s dad married his sister, and Hestia’s mom and dad were siblings too! I mean, I only have a mom, and she just popped me out of her head one day, just like Athena’s dad! I do not get why mortals have this hang up! ”  
  
“Well, it’s the inbreeding, mostly,” Eris said. “I think? Look, it’s been like eight thousand years since I was mortal. I don’t really get it either, but they seem to think it’s important.”  
  
“So we just keep it a secret! That’s what Cecily’s for, right?” Aqua argued.  
  
Eris shrugged. “Ok, fine. Just make sure you clear up any negative recessive traits in the gene sequence.”  
  
Aqua blinked stupidly, and Eris sighed. “Oh, fine. I’ll take care of it. Just give me Kazuma’s soul.”  
  
“Great! Thanks. I never get all that weird science stuff, doesn’t make any sense.” Aqua rooted around in her bosom of all places, and pulled out a glowing blue sphere, which she passed to the other goddess, who accepted it.  
  
“Right.” Aqua turned back to Cersei and Jamie, who were now clinging to one another, terrified. “Greetings, Mortals!”  
  
“G-greetings, g-goddesses,” Cersei stammered.  
  
“You’re not here to judge us?” Jamie asked, sounding rather worried.  
  
“Nah. That’s Satella’s job, or maybe Hestia. We’re here to give you a blessing!” Aqua declared. “One of the Children of Destiny!”  
  
Cersei listened in growing shock, and then, smug satisfaction. She had been right. Jamie was the one for her, and she was being rewarded with a son who would be the Prince that Was Promised. Though that did worry her, as the last Prince That Was Promised had been the Kinslayer of Harrenhal. In the end though, she and Jamie accepted the blessing Eris offered them, and made love once more. Her flesh quickened, and she took Robert to bed. When Kazuma was born, the foolish king believed him to be his own son.  
  
But as her son grew, Cercei began to worry. People talked, especially when Tommen and Myrcella came around. The king rarely called the queen to his chambers, and there was no love between them. Theirs was not the only frosty noble marriage, but the Queen’s children were drawing notice.  
  
Still, the Goddesses would not abandon Cersei now, would they? She prayed not. If they did, however, Cersei’s enemies would not find her a sleeping lioness. She would protect her cubs, no matter what came.  
  
No matter the cost.  
  
=====================================================================  
  
  
As usual, Megumin got up with the sun, bounding out of bed and scrambling into her clothes. Yunyun was up at dawn as well, bursting with excitement and dressing in her nicest riding dress. Megumin darted out of the door, only to be collared by Septa Cecily before she’d gone five steps.  
  
“Not today, kiddo. You’ve gotta wear your nice duds. Go back and try again,” Cecily ordered, hand gripping Megumin’s neck firmly.  
  
“Leggo, I’m riding with Kazuma!” Megumin protested, attempting to wriggle out of her tutors grip.  
  
“Yes, you are riding with the prince. Which means, at least for today, you have an incredibly important mission,” Cecily informed Megumin.  
  
Megumin paused, eyeing the Axis Septa. “What kind of mission?”  
  
Cecily looked around, then leaned down, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You see, in King’s Landing, the Prince has dozens of dangerous enemies. Foes at every turn. If you’re going to be riding with him, you’ll be a target too.”  
  
Megumin considered this, eyeing Cecily suspiciously. “So, I need to wear armor?”  
  
“No, you need to wear a disguise. Everyone knows that Megumin Stark wears nothing but riding leathers and boy’s clothes. So, to sneak into the city, we have to get you to wear a dress and-GET BACK HERE YOUNG LADY!”  
  
“You’re just trying to trick me, Cecily, I’m not falling for it!” Megumin shouted, scampering away from her minder. She turned around to stick out her tongue at Cecily, only to run smack into what felt like a stone wall. Staggered, Megumin turned to look up and find her father looking down at her.  
  
“Megumin. We’re entering the city today. I asked Scepta Cecily to ensure you were dressed as a lady should be. You are going to listen, aren’t you?”  
  
Folding her arms over her chest, Megumin frowned and began to sulk. “Well, if I have to wear a dress, then-”  
  
“-uncomfortable! Can’t I just ride in the wheelhouse? I don’t want to wear this stupid monkey suit! It doesn’t even fit properly anymore!” Prince Kazuma complained as he exited his own tent, dressed in a red and yellow silken tunic emblazoned with the Crowned Stag and Lannister Lion. It did indeed not quite fit the prince anymore, as he had done some growing in the nearly six months since they had left King’s Landing last, and though the tunic had been adjusted several times it was just a bit too small.  
  
That made Megumin flush slightly, as her dresses fit just fine, her having not grown much since leaving Winterfell. To Megumin’s irritation, Yunyun had actually surpassed her younger sister in height, and the gap seemed to be widening.  
  
“Yes, father,” Megumin grumbled, and turned back to her tent, changing into the riding dress of grey and white with the Stark direwolf on it. Megumin had made it a general policy throughout her life to wear skirts as rarely as possible, as knights did not wear dresses. Though she did have a newly acquired goal of learning magic, she still thought of herself as doing so as an armored knight, not a silly maester in robes.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Megumin turned to glare at Kazuma, who was standing beside his horse, fiddling with a golden circlet in his hands. “What?” she snapped, ready for the prince to deliver some acidic barb about her appearance.  
  
“You, um, you look good. That dress is, er, nice on you.”  
  
Having been prepared with a cut about how Kazuma looked like an overstuffed scarecrow, Megumin’s mind blanked at the compliment. All she managed was to goggle at Kazuma, who blushed and turned away, scrambling into his saddle far less gracefully than he usually did.  
  
“Um, Megumin, I think he was trying to be nice.”  
  
Megumin turned to glower at Yunyun instead, who was already on her own horse. “What are you talking about? Cadzuma is a rude jerk! He’s never nice!”  
  
“Really?” Yunyun looked at her sister incredulously. “That’s not a very kind thing to say about your friend.”  
  
“We are not friends,” Megumin huffed. Instead of accepting the helping hand up into her saddle, Megumin hiked up her skirts and jumped up into the saddle rather ungracefully.  
  
“For someone who you’re not friends with, you two spend a lot of time together,” Yunyun said, still eyeing her sister sideways.  
  
“That is because we have to learn about, you know,” Megumin wiggled her fingers suggestively, as though casting a spell.  
  
“Megumin, even before that, you woke up at dawn to get Kazuma, played together all day, then didn’t separate until it was bedtime,” Yunyun pointed out. “You spend more time with him than you do me these days.”  
  
“That’s because you’re not interested in becoming a knight, and learning the art of the blade,” Megumin declared. “I shall master the blade, and one day, be Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, just like Barristan Selmy!”  
  
“Is that so, my lady? I do confess, do not recall many calling me ‘lady’ Commander of the Sworn Brothers of the King’s guard. Or would that be Sworn Sisters?”  
  
Megumin spun about, going pale, then red, as an older man dressed in a snow white cloak and tabard rode up to them. Despite the man's age and weathered and scared features, he sat with grace and poise in the saddle, and his hand rested lightly on his sword hilt, his eyes steady, yet ever aware of his surroundings like the master swordsman he was.  
  
“Ohmygoddesses!” Megumin squealed. “You’re Ser Barristan the Bold! The Greatest Knight EVER!”  
  
“You flatter me, Lady Stark,” Ser Berristan chuckled. “I would consider myself merely a man who does his duty.”  
  
“But you slew Maelys the Monstrous in the Stepstones! You won Lord Steffon’s tourney where you defeated-”  
  
“Your pardon, Lord Barriston, my daughter has something of an obsession with you,” Eddard said, easing his horse next to Megumin’s.  
  
“Dad! Dad! He’s Ser Barristan! Do you think you could beat him, dad? I bet you could! I know you don’t like tourneys and stuff but I bet if you’d fought him at the Trident you’d totally have kicked his butt!” Megumin babbled.  
  
That made the old knight chuckle. “It seems even the supposed greatest knight of the realm must pale in comparison to the esteem a daughter has for her lord father. Though I will say, Lady Stark, I am grateful that your father and I never crossed swords. He is a man to be respected, on and off the battlefield.”  
  
“If only my daughter believed the same,” Eddard said, giving Megumin an affectionate smile. “Come. We’re to ride at the head with the king’s party. You’re to ride beside the crown prince, Megumin.”  
  
“What about Yunyun?” Megumin demanded, glancing at her sister.  
  
“It’s OK, I can ride with Tommen and Myrcella! I’m just happy we’re going to be able to make so many new friends today!” Yunyun then rode up to Ser Barristen, smiling widely. “Hello! I’m Yunyun Stark! I’m so glad to meet you! You seem nice, we should be friends!”  
  
Ser Barristan’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Eddard, who chuckled and shook his head. “Was it not you who told me it is more honorable to make a friend, rather than an enemy, Ser Barristan?”  
  
“I suppose it was,” the Lord Commander agreed, and he bowed slightly to Megumin. “I should be honored to be your friend and protector, Lady Yunyun, for as long as you remain here in King’s Landing.”  
  
“Oh good! I’m sure I’ll be here lots, Megumin’s going to marry the prince. I don’t think she’s figured it out yet though.”  
  
Ser Barriston hid a smile and a laugh with a cough. “Is that so? Well, come. It is time for us to enter into the city.”  
  
Though Megumin rode beside Kazuma as the party entered into the city, she had eyes only for Ser Barristan, and rambled on to Kazuma about his various heroic feats. She didn’t even notice that the prince was growing increasingly irritated at her nattering as they wound their way through the city.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Kazuma snapped to Megumin at last, even as the small folk waved and cheered at the royal party’s passage. “If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?”  
  
“Don’t be gross, he’s cool, but he’s old. Older than my dad,” Megumin said, making a face. “See, you should try to be cool like Ser Barristan, or your Uncle Jamie. You could have an awesome cloak, and go on quests, and slay vicious foes!”  
  
“Yeah? Well, knight’s aren’t as cool as you think,” Kazuma grumbled. “Wait till you meet Sandor’s asshole brother.”  
  
“Well, Sandor’s alright, but he’s not really a proper knight,” Megumin sniffed.  
  
“True. I don’t bash children’s heads in, or rape women before I kill them,” Sandor growled.  
  
“Clegane!” Jamie snapped, turning in his saddle to glare at the Hound. “Keep a civil tongue in your head around the lady.”  
  
“Oh, your pardon, Ser Jamie,” Sandor said in a dutiful tone, but the emphasis he put on the Ser made it more than half an insult. “What was it they call you again?”  
  
“Ok, Sandor, knock it off, right now,” Kazuma ordered, turning in his seat to glare at the Hound. “What the hell has gotten into you? Ok, so Megumin’s a knight fangirl. It’s annoying. But that doesn’t mean you need to pick on her. Back off.”  
  
“As you say, your highness,” Sandor muttered, and pulled his mount back slightly.  
  
“He’s mad because he feels bad he didn’t protect you,” Megumin said softly, feeling guilty. “And me, probably. Haven’t you noticed? He’s slept outside your door pretty much every night.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Kazuma asked suspiciously.  
  
Megumin flushed. “Well, he may have caught me trying to sneak in and get you to try practicing magic during the full moon. It’s supposed to make some spells more powerful.”  
  
“How am I not surprised?” Kazuma sighed. He managed to give Megumin a smile. “So, um, what do you think of King’s Landing so far?”  
  
Megumin looked around, wrinkling her nose. There were stains of old filth everywhere, gutters with brown water and worse, and unwashed masses of people. It wasn’t like Winterfell at all, which housed over a thousand, but was clean and well kept. “It stinks, and it’s too noisy.”  
  
The prince snorted and had to stifle a laugh. “You know, I think the same thing. That’s why I hardly ever bother leaving my rooms.”  
  
They arrived at the palace at last, where the party split up to refresh themselves from the road. Megumin was eager to change out of her dress and have a bath, until she spied what Cecily had laid out for her and her sister to wear.  
  
“This is outrageous! It’s unfair!” Megumin bellowed, standing up in her bath and making Yunyun squawk as she was splashed. “I already wore a dress today, how am I even supposed to walk in that thing?!”  
  
“Tell you what, you wear the dress, I’ll throw in the eyepatch,” Cecily said, holding up a bright crimson strip of cloth. “Deal?”  
  
Megumin considered this, eyeing Cecily distrustfully. “You won’t trick me and try to take it?”  
  
“Honey, Axis Cultists know how to make a good entrance. Knock ‘em dead,” Cecily said, giving Megumin a big thumbs up. “Just don’t put it on until you’re ready or Eddy will take it. Sheesh, you’d think he’d lighten up after all these years and learn how to have some fun! Now you two hurry up, I’m supposed to help you remember all the names of all these supposedly important people. Can’t remember them myself most of the time…”  
  
With the realization that she was going to be able to make a spectacular introduction in front of the entire court, Megumin eagerly scrambled into the dress, but had Cecily and Yunyun help her hide Chunchumaru in her skirts. She had to make sure they did a proper introduction.  
  
“Um, Megumin, just this once, maybe we could, you know, introduce ourselves like normal people?” Yunyun asked as they made ready to head to the great hall.  
  
“Yunyun, what have I told you? This is a proud and important part of our culture. Now, are you a proper member of the Crimson Demon Band of Adventurers or not?”  
  
“I am, I am,” Yunyun agreed. “You know dad is going to have a fit.”  
  
“You let me worry about him. This will be totally worth it,” Megumin declared.  
  
Unfortunately, no sooner had they stepped outside then their father and Robb were standing there, waiting.  
  
“Megumin. Where is Chunchumaru?” Eddard asked, baring Megumin’s way.  
  
“I don’t know, in my trunk or something,” she said, scowling in irritation.  
  
“Sister, we’re in King’s Landing. Father is to be Hand. We cannot dishonor our family name,” Robb said. “Now. Your sword.”  
  
“But, but we have to-”  
  
“We’ll have time for posing and shouting about your great feats later,” her father said sternly. “I’m not going to ask again. Where is Chunchumaru?”  
  
Grumbling, Megumin hiked up her skirts and handed over her wooden blade, which her father stowed back in the sisters chambers. “Now. I trust you will both behave yourselves? Follow the example of the royal family if you forget your lessons. Which I am certain Septa Cecily did not neglect.”  
  
“Hey, we just went over that stuff. Megumin can curtsy with the best of them!” Cecily laughed. When Lord Stark gave the Septa a pained look, she just winked. “I’ll behave myself, boss. Don’t sweat it, your girls will be good!”  
  
As they walked, Megumin fell back to Cecily and glared at her. “You told.”  
  
“Damn right I did, kid. It’s for your own good you know. Unless you want to join the Axis Cult, you can’t really get away with acting like that down here. We’re not in Winterfell anymore. Dog eat dog in the court,” Cecily said seriously. “Look, I care about you, Megs. Make a good impression. It counts for a lot.”  
  
“I was going to make a good impression, but then you all ruined it,” Megumin muttered. Then she brightened. She did still have the eye patch. Maybe the situation was salvageable after all.  
  
When they did arrive at the Great Hall, Megumin suddenly felt slightly relieved that her father had confiscated Chunchumaru and forbade her from her typical theatrics. She hadn’t realized just how many people there would be here. Even riding through King’s Landing hadn’t quite prepared Megumin for the pageantry of the lords and ladies of the court assembled in their finery. There were over a hundred of them, plus servants, men at arms, courtiers, and several children.  
  
They were just making their way into the hall when Prince Kazuma appeared with Sandor at his heels. “My Lord, if I may have the pleasure of escorting my lady?” Kazuma said.  
  
To Megumin’s surprise, her father nodded, and allowed Kazuma to take Megumin’s arm.  
  
“What are you doing?” she hissed.  
  
“Getting you this,” Kazuma replied, and held a hand out to Sandor, who quickly passed Kazuma a long object.  
  
“Here, take it. We just grabbed a random one, but I figured you’d get busted and your dad would take Chunchumaru,” Kazuma whispered.  
  
Megumin gaped as she realized the prince had given her a sword and scabbard, but she quickly made it vanish into her skirts. “Why’d you bring it to me?”  
  
“Duh, so we can do a proper introduction,” Kazuma hissed. “Wait, hold up, gotta let my dad go first.”  
  
The court greeted Robert, who nodded looking a bit irritated at the long winded greetings offered by the members of his Small Council.  
  
“Before we go any further, I have two announcements,” Robert said, leaning forward on the rather uncomfortable looking Iron Throne. It was a lot bigger than Megumin had imagined, being taller than a man was with what had to be hundreds of swords making it up.  
  
“First, Lord Eddard Stark has accepted the position of Hand of the King. Let his word be my word, and his actions, my actions, for he is my right hand in all things,” Robert declared, standing with a grunt and shambling down the steps of the throne. Megumin’s father knelt, and Robert draped a heavy golden chain of interlocked golden hands about Eddard’s neck.  
  
“I accept this burden, your Grace, and shall execute the duties of the office of the Hand with honor and justice,” Eddard vowed.  
  
“So be it,” Robert said, making a hurrying up gesture. Did he look...bored? How could he be bored? This was so cool! “Rise, Lord Stark.”  
  
“Next, Lord Stark and I ought to share with you all,” the king said, looking around the chamber. “He and I have pledged our houses to be joined, by the marriage of my son, Crown Prince Kazuma Baratheon, and his Daughter, Lady Megumin Stark.”  
  
“Now!” Kazuma cried, and before she knew what was happening, Megumin jumped out from the crowd, drawing her new sword and raising it high. She caught her father's expression out of the corner of her eye and- was he smiling?  
  
“BEHOLD!” Kazuma roared, causing a collective gasp of breath from the assembled court. “I AM KAZUMA BARATHEON, CROWN PRINCE OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, AND HE WHO WILL ONE DAY MARRY MEGUMIN!”  
  
“BEHOLD! I AM MEGUMIN STARK! FOREMOST GENIUS OF THE HOUSE OF STARK, AND SHE WHO WILL ONE DAY BE QUEEN!”  
  
Megumin grinned at the astonished expressions of the assembled nobles, and lowered her sword, making an arcane sign over her eye, which of course bore her eye patch once more. “Ha! I see my glory has left these poor Southron fools speechless! No wonder the King and Prince Kazuma were forced to battle their way north, against vicious demons and terrible monsters in order to find a worthy bride!”  
  
“Of course, how else could my dark and terrible power have been tamed save by the hand of the She-Wolf of Winterfell?” Kazuma asked, leaning against Megumin’s back and posing with his sword held in a high guard position.  
  
“As you can see, our children are somewhat enthusiastic about the betrothal,” the king said dryly. “I’m quite certain you’ll all agree it’s a suitable match, and that I couldn’t have found a better woman for my son if I’d searched all the way to bloody Yi Ti. Now, if the two of you will excuse us, you’re not quite king yet, Kazuma. There are some small matters to attend to, I’m certain.”  
  
“Um, yes, of course, father,” Kazuma said, giving a jerky bow. Megumin gave a curtsy to the king, blushing as she and Kazuma scampered back to where Yunyun was standing.  
  
“Still don’t think he’s your friend?” Yunyun whispered.  
  
“Well. I am beginning to think he may have certain redeeming qualities,” Megumin whispered back. She eyed Kazuma, considering. Maybe being a queen wouldn’t be so bad. Some queens had been dragon riders, after all, and fought in battles. She’d just have to be that kind, instead of the fussy annoying type like Cersei Lannister was.  
  
Neither she nor Kazuma ever saw the small private smile on the new Hand’s face, or the amused look the queen gave her son and his betrothed. And while both of them got quite a lecture from their respective parents in private later, it wasn’t quite as thorough as it could have been.  
  
  
 _Cast of Characters:_  
  
 _Megumin as; WINNING!_  
  
 _Kazuma as; The Chuuniest Prince in Town_  
  
 _Yunyun as; Red Eyes of Friendship_  
  
 _Eddard Stark as; The Hand of Judgement_  
  
 _Robert Baratheon as; Not nearly drunk enough for this_  
  
 _Ser Barristan Selmy as; Holy shit this guy is so cool_  
  
 _And the cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as rather scandalized._


	10. Evasive Maneuvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truly, Iris has a dizzying intellect.

_ Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon _

_ Produced by: The Grand Cognator _

_ Sponsored by: Mustang Brand Lighters. Build a man a fire, and he will be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he will be warm for the rest of his life. _

_ Chapter 9: Evasive Maneuvers  _

Kings Landing was much as Eddard Stark remembered it: a rats’ nest of small folk living on top of one another in squalor, with the Red Keep perched atop it all. He was sweating more than ever in this Southron heat, even this early in the day. Still, Robert’s summons had seemed urgent, and Eddard and Jory strode quickly through the halls to the Small Council’s Chambers. 

“Ah, Lord Eddard, so good to have a punctual Hand once more,” Lord Varys said as Ned entered the room. The Spider was already seated at the council table, and did not rise, only giving a bloodless smile.

“Lord Varys,” Eddard said, giving the eunuch a nod and doing his best to hide his distaste. He’d become somewhat better at such things since his last stay in King’s Landing, as his daughters had taught him a great deal about patience and tolerating things he found unpleasant. 

“I must say, your daughter is such a delight. It is rare that someone manages to take the court so unawares,” Varys chuckled, a wet, almost coughing sound. “And such a match for the prince! Indeed, many of us had despaired of our beloved Kazuma ever finding a wife that would put up with his own peculiarities.”

Something about the comment rankled Eddard, and he felt as though Varys was mocking his daughter. “Megumin is quite dear to me. I hope she and Kazuma will find happiness together,” he replied coolly. Further conversation was interrupted as the Grand Maester and Ser Barristan entered the room, deep in discussion about some more arcane point of lore. They were followed shortly by the king’s youngest brother Lord Renly, and Lord Baelish, the latter of which gave Eddard a knowing smile. 

“Well then, shall we get started, my lords?” Varys said, giving another ingratiating smile as everyone was seated. 

  
“What of the king, and Lord Stannis? I have not yet seen him about the keep, is he unwell?” Eddard asked. 

“Lord Stannis has been absent for many months now, departing for Dragonstone not long after the king went North,” Baelish replied, a small smile on his lips. “And, well, if we wait for the king-”

“Then you’d bloody well be doing what I keep you around for, Little Finger,” Robert gasped, hauling himself into the room and panting softly for breath. “Forgot how bloody large this damned place is.” 

Groaning, Robert eased himself into the massive padded chair at the head of the table, then glared around the chamber. “Alright, I want to know where the bitch is.”

“Pardon, brother, but does our new Hand know of whom you speak?” Lord Renly asked, eyeing Eddard with a neutral expression. 

“Seven hells, Renly, he damn well should! I’m speaking of that viperous bitch, Iris Targaryen!” Robert roared, slamming the table with his fist. “What’s this I heard about her burning Pentos to the ground, and why did I hear of it as a jape from Loras Tyrell and not from my Master of Whisperers!?” 

“Ah,” Varys said, licking his lips. “We had not sought to trouble you, your Grace, so fresh from the road. In truth, Pentos still stands, we only know that the girl has left the city.”

“After slaughtering an entire damned Dothraki Khalisar! What in the name of all the goddesses is she up to?” Robert snarled. “I want that girl's head on a bleeding pike! Didn’t we send some of the Faceless Ones after her?” 

“Robert!” Eddard cried, forgetting himself somewhat. “She is nought but a girl! Not even a woman grown yet!”

“She’s a Targaryen, and they’re all snakes,” Robert growled. “And this one I want dead like the rest of her brood.”

“I do have some information, but it is unverified. I hardly credit it myself,” Varys said, reaching into his robes. “I had hoped to have something other than base rumor for you, your Grace, but what whispers have passed to my ears are troubling.”

Varys pulled out a rolled parchment, smoothing it out on the table. Eddard glanced at it, and felt his heart skip a beat. On it was an image drawn in hasty charcol, then lacquered. It depicted a girl sitting atop a horse, long lightly colored hair escaping from her hood. She had both arms out, and perched on each was a winged beast, tongues of flame shooting from their muzzles. Above her flew another creature. All looked to be about the size of an eagle, but what they were was unmistakable. 

  
“Dragons,” Eddard gasped, reaching out slowly to touch the paper. 

  
Robert slumped in his seat, his face going gray. “This cannot be. There hasn’t been a living dragon in generations.”

“It is said on the night of the girl's birth, Athena herself appeared in the sky, blessing her,” Grand Maester Pycell said, shaking his head. “There have been rumors of late. Rumors of goddesses and magic running rampant. The return of dragons would be an ill omen indeed.”

“Still think she’s just a girl, Ned?” Robert growled. 

Slowly, Eddard shook his head. “If she has dragons, even young ones...she is no girl. She’s a dragon lord, come again. Do we know of her intent?”

“The last word was that she informed the magisters of Pentoss that she would, ‘cross the sea and take back my Big Bro’s kingdom,’” Varys stated. “At which point, she vanished into the Dothraki Sea. She’s reemerged at several points, but we haven’t been able to piece together her plan.”

“Bring me a bloody map!” Robert barked. “I want details! I’ll see this girl dead if I have to hire every assassin and sell sword from here to Asshai!” 

A map of Essos was dutifully retrieved and laid on the table, and Varys began to carefully mark where reports of Iris and her dragons had been located, indicating the likely date when the sightings had occurred. 

When Varys was done, Eddard could only stare at the map in despondency. It was crisscrossed by lines that indicated possible travel and stops by Iris Targaryn’s band, which was rumored to consist of her, her brother, and now Ser Jorah Mormont. Ned felt a pang of regret he’d not executed the man instead of exiling him. To have a Targaryen with dragons loose in the world again...Eddard had a soft spot for children, and he still feared for Jon’s life. He did think of the boy as his son, and as a Stark, not a Targaryen. But Iris was a threat. 

“We can make nothing of her intended path or destination. Wherever she appears, she recruits new followers to her company, causes some havoc with those who could hope to resist her, then vanishes,” Varys stated.

“The Targaryen’s are mad, but cunning,” Robert growled. “Only the goddesses know what devilish scheme that girl is brewing.”

  
  


======================================================================

“Big bro, I think we’re lost again,” Iris admitted after what Viserys estimated was at least three days of wandering in circles. 

“Perhaps, little sister, if you would let someone else use the map?” Viserys suggested, trying not to let out a groan of anguish. 

Iris shook her head, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, Big Bro, I know exactly where we’re going! We’re going to get an army, then cross the Narrow Sea and kick Fat Robert right off his stolen throne!” She held up the map, pursing her lips, and frowning. 

  
This time, Viserys did let out a groan, and scrubbed his face with his hand. Iris had the map upside down. And, how he didn’t know, also backwards. 

“Hmm. I think...that way!” Iris declared, pointing in what Viserys assumed was a random direction. “Yep! This is sure to be the way, Big Bro! Come on, Ser Jorah!”

“As you say, my lady,” Ser Jorah agreed, and waved his arm. The collection of misfits that Iris had been acquiring over the past few months followed after her as she rode on her horse, leading them only the goddesses knew where. 

Part of Viserys wondered just why anyone would follow his obviously insane sister. The other part of him kept an eye overhead, where three dragons circled lazily in the sky. 

One of them, the largest and a black colored brute, swooped down to Iris, causing the horse to shy. The dragon was growing swiftly, and was now about the size of a large hound. Iris reached into her saddle pack, pulling out a bit of cooked meat and tossing it to her pet. 

“Good boy, Belzerg!” Iris said, reaching down and petting the dragon’s pointed muzzle. The beast breathed out a bit of flame, which made Iris giggle as the fire played over her fingers. 

As Viserys and everyone else had learned, Iris appeared to be entirely immune to fire, as the dragons had burned down no fewer than three tents with her inside. The first time, Iris had only woken up when Jorah had thrown water on the fire. She’d stumbled out, dress still smoldering, and demanded to know who was attacking them. Upon hearing it was the dragons, Iris had proceeded to set all three of the beasts down and delivered a stern lecture on fire safety. 

At first, Viserys had thought this just a sign of his sister's madness. After all, dragons were beasts, not men, even if they did have odd powers. Except that Belzerg seemed to take exception to the lecture, and had attacked Iris. Ser Jorah and some of their followers had gasped in shock, until Iris wrested the dragon out of the air and proceeded to literally spank him. 

After that, Belzerg was much more compliant and tame, apparently having realized what Viserys had learned a long time ago: Iris was tougher, stronger, and meaner than anyone else. Though decidedly not bigger, as most of the dragons were now larger than she. Belzerg had tried several times to prove himself against Iris, but so far all he’d earned were several more lickings. 

In contrast, the two females, Stylish Sword and Imoto, were far better behaved than their larger brother. Stylish Sword was a mottled dark red, and was nearly as aggressive as Belzerg when it came to hunting for prey. Whenever Dothraki had been foolish enough to attack Iris’s group, Stylish Sword had been the one to pursue the horse riders the longest and fiercest. She was, however, docile enough that she would allow others beside Iris to feed her, though she would suffer no other hand to touch her. 

As for Imoto, she was the smallest of the dragons, and for a fire breathing monster that lived for war and conquest, she was surprisingly gentle, even allowing other hands to touch her at times. Though whenever Iris offered to let Viserys do so, he quickly begged off. The dragon was, however, extremely protective of Iris, and prone to sending licks of flame in the direction of anyone who dared raise their voices against her mother. 

They hadn’t got far before the female dragons overhead let out warbling shrieks, and dove on something out of sight on the rolling grassy hills. With a roar and burst of flame, Belzerg rose into the air as well, following after his sisters. Iris laughed and spurred her horse, which caused Ser Jorah to race after her. Viserys didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though Iris were in any danger. Maybe Jorah was worried for the sake of whatever was currently being flame broiled by the dragons. 

Half an hour later, Viserys rode over a low rise and came upon a grisly scene: half a dozen slaughtered and seared sheep, which the dragons had mostly devoured. 

  
“Look, Big Bro, Imoto brought your dinner!” Iris declared, holding up a lamb that had apparently been dropped from a height to break its back. 

“Er, that’s nice,” Viserys said, forcing a smile on his face. At least it was better than starving. They’d acquired over one hundred former dothraki slaves, who had been left behind when their former masters had either perished or fled after attacking Iris. Viserys wasn’t sure if they had been trying to avenge Khal Drogo, or if they’d just been dumb enough to think that a girl and her three pet dragons were easy prey. 

They had spent more than half a year wandering across the Dothraki Sea by Viserys reckoning, though he was admittedly fairly bad at math that didn’t involve figuring out how far away he was from his little sister. During that time, they’d clashed innumerable times with the Dothraki. Part of Viserys wondered if the horse lords were just slow learners, or if somehow they hadn’t heard of the destruction of other khalisars because Iris didn’t leave enough survivors. 

Most of Iris’s “army” was a collection of former slaves that Iris had “freed” after destroying several khalisars. A rather large portion of those slaves had sensibly run away screaming from the sword wielding maniac and her three pet monsters, but there had always been at least a few that had viewed Iris as a savior, if a violent one, and sworn themselves to her service. There were also a few warriors, most of them Dothraki that had bent the knee rather than be incinerated or hacked to pieces. 

As it was nearing nightfall, the group began to set up camp in the manner that Iris prescribed. Viserys didn’t see why Iris insisted on each camp being set up in neat, orderly rows, with the fighters on the outer edges and the women and children, and Viserys, on the inside. When possible, Iris also demanded that a line of stakes and a shallow trench be dug around the camp. The most obsessive part of Iris’s plans however, came to sanitation. Slit trenches for latrines were always to be placed downhill and down stream of the camp, and were to be buried before the group moved on. Somehow, Iris had found a couple Axis cultists, and required that all water was to be purified or boiled before it was used for drinking. 

“She behaves as though she’s an old campaigner. Even Randyll Tarly or Tywin Lannister would approve of her quartering of troops,” Ser Jorah had mused. Viserys thought that was dumb, as most of them weren’t troops, but a bunch of useless women and children they had to feed. 

  
As of late, the feeding was much easier, as Iris had taught her dragons to locate game, and either bring it back, or circle above their kills and wait for parties to retrieve it for the camp. As the dragons were just as terrified of her as everyone else, they were rather androit in their services. 

With the camp set up, Iris set about holding court. She always demanded that Viserys attend and sit in the high seat, as though he were actually in charge. 

“Captain Jokko, Big Bro needs to know our scouts reports,” Iris said, standing dutifully beside Viserys. 

“Khaleesi-”

“General,” Iris corrected. She seemed to envision herself as the commanding officer Viserys’ army, which was hilarious because the army's primary purpose seemed to be to keep Viserys from running away. 

“General Stormborn,” Jokko acceded. He spoke only Dothraki, which Viserys wouldn’t have bothered to learn if Iris had insisted on personally tutoring him until he mastered the language. As it was, he was quite fluent. “The scouts report we have entered into the territory of the lamb men. They fled, leaving behind some small portions of their flocks upon seeing your glorious children.”

“What’s a ‘lamb men?’” Viserys asked, looking to Ser Jorah. 

“That would be the Lhazareen. We must have crossed the Dothraki Sea and entered into the Lhazar.”

“Is that near Braavos? I was trying to get to Braavos so we could cross the Narrow Sea and get Big Bro’s throne back,” Iris asked, her brow furrowing. 

  
Ser Jorah and Iris’s other advisors goggled at her, and Viserys cleared his throat. “Ah, little sister, Lhazar is just about the opposite direction from Braavos. It’s on the other side of half the continent.”

“Oh.” Iris scratched at her chin, frowning. “Maybe someone else should use the map.”

“I think that might be wise,” Ser Jorah said faintly. “I had thought- were you not making for Slaver’s Bay? I had thought you were seeking to hire mercenaries, such as the Unsullied.”

“Oh! What do you think, Big Bro? Should we get some mercenaries? We’ve got lots of treasure now.”

Indeed, Iris’s baggage was composed of nearly 200 pack horses, many of which were laden with gold, silks, and other wealth they had taken from the defeated Dothraki. It was only a fraction of what had been left behind, and Viserys imagined there were still vast fortunes hidden in the grass as it grew back from the battles. It still pained Viserys that they’d left behind so much wealth, but they had simply not had the people and horses to transport all the plunder they’d seized from the khalisars. 

“Er, well, Unsullied are supposed to be excellent and loyal troops,” Viserys ventured. “We could do that?”

“Great! We’ll get Big Bro’s army from Slaver’s Bay!” Iris agreed happily. “Now, I want a quartermasters report. How are our provisions? Big Bro wants to make sure his army is well fed!” 

Viserys actually didn’t give a damn about any of that, but he smiled and nodded and did a lot of “Well, little sis, what do you think?” and then told everyone to do what Iris said. It was what everyone was going to do anyway. 

Early the next morning, the sentries reported the arrival of a band of armed men, some mounted, but most on foot with slings and spears. Viserys immediately went to the safest place: behind Iris. Unfortunately, that refuge had just buckled on her plate armor and had strode out to face the oncoming force. 

“Who dares approach my Big Bro’s army?” Iris shouted in dothraki as the group of just over a hundred fighters hurried towards them. 

“We are the warriors of the Lhazareen! Prepare to face justice, dothraki dogs!” a voice replied in the same language

“We are not dothraki, you blind fools,” Ser Jorah bellowed. “Before you stands Queen Iris Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, The Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Blessed of Athena, and Protector of the Realm!”

“That’s right! And don’t forget my Big Bro!” Iris agreed. Viserys fervently prayed that everyone would, and he could find some out of the way place to hide in for the rest of his days. 

That brought the Lhazareen up short, and their leaders held a whispered conference. “Well, you still have stolen our sheep!”

“Oh, we can pay for those! My Big Bro is super generous,” Iris declared. “My babies were just hungry.”

“Babies?” the leader of the lamb men asked, and then had just enough time to piss themselves as Belzerg, Stylish Sword, and Imoto flew down out the sky bearing a sheep apiece. The dragons glared at the cowering warriors, several of which had turned tail and run off. 

“That would be the dragons,” Ser Jorah said dryly. “Her Grace is a dragonlord. We’d have thought you would have noticed.”

“Oh, don’t be scared, my babies are very well behaved.” Iris turned her gaze on her dragons, her eyes flashing. “Because mommy would be very upset if you killed people you weren’t supposed to.”

The dragons all immediately assumed what Viserys could only describe as postures of wounded innocence. Belzerg shuffled slightly, apparently remembering the last time his mother had decided to discipline him. 

“Er, well, i-i-if you’re going to pay for the sheep, I suppose it’s fine.” the remaining Lhazareen commander stammered.

“Great! Quartermaster, negotiate a suitable price for foodstuffs for our forces, and include the animals we have already taken,” Iris ordered. 

The negotiations were short, and unless Viserys was even more uninformed of livestock prices than his sister was on geography, the deal that was struck was ludicrously favorable to their group. Considering that Iris and the dragons were perfectly capable of taking what they wanted from these timid people, Viserys figured the shepherds had still gotten a pretty good deal. 

That day, they rode through more rolling hills, and made their camp by one of the Lhazareen towns. The villagers appeared to be utterly terrified of them, hiding in their homes and peeking out through their shuttered windows on occasion. The only time they showed themselves was when they were given payment for their flocks, and a few men hurried out to separate the sheep that were needed. 

Near dusk, a woman emerged from the largest building on a rounded hilltop, which Viserys assumed was a Red Temple from the large braziers out front. Upon seeing she was dressed in red and white robes like that of a jester’s motley, Viserys suspicions were confirmed. The Red Priestess proceeded to build a large bonfire not far from the camp, loudly reciting prayers to the Lord of Light. A few villagers hurried out to toss some fuel into the flames and mutter a quick prayer before running back inside. 

Seeing Iris was occupied, Viserys snuck out to the bonfire, bringing a handful of wood chips to offer into the blaze. 

“Why do you disturb my night fire, intruder?” the priestess demanded. 

“Oh, you know, just saying my own prayers,” Viserys said, giving her a halfhearted smile. He didn’t necessarily believe in the Red God, but he was also incredibly wary of the Seven Goddesses, as he largely blamed them for saddling him with Iris. 

The priestess regarded Viserys, looking thoughtful. “Do you follow the Lord of Light, False Dragon?” 

“I’ll follow anyone who could keep me away from that monster,” Viserys muttered, and threw in the wood chips.

To his shock, the flames suddenly roared, and he heard cackling laughter. Viserys jumped back, his heart racing and face pale.

“The Red God hears your prayers,” the priestess declared, raising her hands to the sky. “Fear not, noble prince. The night is dark, and full of terrors, but The Lord of Light shall bring laughter to every lip, and warmth to every heart.”

“That’s um, very nice, and-”

“I see within the flames, prince. I see you far away from your sister, given rest at last, the false goddesses laid low at your feet.”

“Really? Far away from Iris?” Viserys asked, suddenly far more interested. 

“Indeed. All you need do is follow the path the Lord of Light lays out for you, child, and he shall ensure you are warm for the rest of your life,” the priestess promised. 

  
Viserys slowly nodded. “I see. And, who, exactly, are you?”

The priestess’s broad face, painted in red and white, was split by a grin. “I am Mirri Maz Durr. Priest of Kefka, Lord of Light and Laughter.”

The woman smiled at Viserys, and he couldn’t help but smile back. After all, how bad could this Kefka be?

_ Cast of Characters _

_ Bobby B as; Actually correct on his threat assessment of Targaryens _

_ Iris Targaryen as; Murder Loli _

_   
_ _ Viserys as; a total schmuck _

_ Mirri Maz Durr as; Oh shit _

_ And introducing: _

_ Kefka Palazzo as; R'hllor, the Lord of Light _

_ And the cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as thoroughly screwed _


	11. The Times, They Are A-Changin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Wiz's Shop and Sundries! We specialize in colorful scarves, women's swimwear, and slaying Others!

_This episode brought to you by the National Endowment for the Arts: If I promised to stop writing, they said they'd pay me. Suckers._

_Chapter 10: The Times, They Are A-changin'_

The midnight sun circled low overhead as Benjen Stark led his line of rangers along a low ridge, past the familiar brightly painted sign. The First Ranger allowed himself to relax slightly, and he could hear a sigh of relief from his men. They'd seen plenty of evidence of Wildlings nearby, and even experienced rangers had a healthy respect for the ferocity of their longtime foes.

No man, wilding or Black Brother, was foolish enough to violate the Witch's Peace. At least not if they were long for this world.

They passed down the ridge and into a valley, where a stand of trees sheltered a cluster of buildings. Each of house was vividly colored, and stuck out like a sore thumb from the dreary landscape of the the lands Beyond the Wall. The trees were all tropical in nature, from broad leafy palms to even several cacti. They would have looked more at home in one of the Free Cities perhaps, but they were a familiar and welcome sight to Benjen by now.

A ranger rode up to Benjen, scowling as he approached. "Tormund Giantsbane is here, with a band of at least two score. Shop's not open either."

"You think she's absent?" Benjen asked, but his scout shrugged.

"Didn't get close enough to check. Tormund's boys seem nervous, and I didn't want to go into that alone."

"They'll keep the Peace," Benjen said firmly. "But ready your weapons. We'll remind them of the wisdom of doing so."

The rangers spread out, not approaching stealthily, as there was little point in that. Tormund's group would have known they were coming, and if they had wanted to start trouble the wildling band would have struck well outside of the Witch's territory.

Indeed, Tormund and two of his men walked out some distance from the buildings to meet the Black Brothers, and Benjen dismounted. He didn't like Tormund Giantsbane; the man had killed too many of his rangers and brothers for anything less than hatred. But he respected the wildling leader. He was honorable enough in his own way, and they had parlayed before.

"You've flown far from your nest, Crow," Giantsbane called. "And so many black birdies! Something have you scared, Stark?"

"Mayhaps. What brings you this far out of your territory, Tormund? Out of bears to fuck?"

"Ha! Funny, coming from a man who thinks his dick is for naught but pissing," Tormund laughed. Then he turned serious. "She's not here, Stark. Hasn't been for a while."

That news worried Benjen, and he motioned for his rangers to leave him as Tormund's warriors stayed back a pace. He stepped forward, and kept his voice low. "Not here? But then, where?"

"I don't know. Stark, queer things are happening. People are vanishing. Entire clans, gone. It's supposed to be summer, but ice spreads from the Frostfangs. Beasts are fleeing from the Lands of Always Winter: entire herds of mammoths and ice bears." Tormund licked his lips, and glanced around. "Listen, Crow, I'll break your bloody neck if you breathe a word of this, but it frightens me. Something's not right. And the Witch is missing."

Ice entered into Benjen's veins. The Wildlings were no friends of the Watch, or of the lands they guarded, Tormund in particular. But there were strange things in the woods near Castle Black. And it was summer, yet the Wall did not weep. And the dreams of men were troubled.

"What are you saying?" Benjen asked.

Tormund ground his teeth, then looked around. "Mance has called the clans. Stark. You should come with me. I'll grant you safe passage with my band. You're a Crow, but you're a fighter, and you've honor. And more importantly, you breathe. The Kinslayer doesn't."

"It can't be Him. The Others are nothing but a shadow of the nightmares of men from long ago," Benjen whispered. "She's seen to that."

"Aye. But she's missing," Tormund replied. "When was the last time she wasn't here?"

Benjen could only shake his head. He'd been First Ranger for three years, and been a ranger for nearly a decade before that. In all that time, the Witch had never been missing from her shop, not even once.

"I'll tell you when," Tormund whispered. "When I was a boy, there was a terrible winter. A bleak, cold one. The Others came down out of their lands beyond the Frostfangs. They took people. Ice spread. And then, one day, the Witch came north. I didn't see the battle. Anyone who tells you they did is a liar and a fool. But her shop was closed for ten days. And when it reopened, the Others were gone again."

"Maybe she's gone to deal with them," Benjen offered. "And this summer will resume its normal course."

"She's been gone two moons at least. We've had word," Tormund said. "What of your patrols? Haven't they come this far north and seen she's not here? Isn't that why you've come?"

For a moment, Benjen debated not answering, but while he hated wildings, they were men. Against his true foes, he would ally with Tormund or even the Lord of Bones in a heartbeat, for at least they had one.

"None of our patrols that have gone beyond sight of the Wall have returned in two months," Benjen stated. "And many who have seen strange things. And they've put down more than a few of our missing patrols."

"That far south?" Tormund asked, his ruddy face going pale. "Stark, if the dead are rising that close to southern lands...you need to come to meet Mance. I know you call him a turncloak and a bastard and a dozen other things, but ice and bone, man, something's wrong. I've seen unburned bodies rise before, but not below the Witch's Shop. And never in summer."

"I need to find the Witch. We have to have answers. Where are the clans gathering?"

"The Fist of the First Men. Where the Others were turned back," Tormund said. "It's a holy place, where more than one god lies dead."

Grimly, Benjen nodded. "I'll send back word. It will be hard to convince some: there have been far more raiders of late."

"They're not raiding, Crow. They're running," Tormund spat. "Some think that the Kinslayer is rising again. They hope to find safety in the south."

"The Night King is long dead," Benjen said, then paused. Beyond the wall, death was not always permanent.

"I think they're fools myself. It's just the Others coming south again. We defeated them before, we'll do it again. With or without you Crows, or even the Witch," Tormund growled. Then he relented. "Be easier with your help, however."

"Against the dead, all of the living are my brothers," Benjen promised. "We'll see about the Witch, and I'll let the Old Bear know. Winter is Coming."

"Aye. Up here, it always is," Tormund agreed. Then, he did something Benjen didn't expect. He offered his arm. "Good luck to you, Stark. Find her."

Benjen gripped Tormund's arm, feeling the hot blood under the furs. "And to you. Goddesses watch over you, Giantsbane."

"Up here?" Tormund gave a bitter laugh. "There's no goddesses up here, Stark. Only the Witch."

After that, Tormund returned to his band, who soon departed. The Rangers ventured into the small town, where a girl was just turning around a sign on the window of a shop from "closed" to "open." Benjen wondered why they bothered. Most of his rangers couldn't read, and he knew that it was a rare wildling indeed that had their letters.

"Good morrow to you, sir," the girl said brightly. Gilly, Benjen thought her name was. Like most of the girls who lived in the Witch's Village, she would have been abandoned there by her parents, a mouth they couldn't afford to feed, left as an offering to the Witch.

"Is Lady Wiz here?" Benjen asked hopefully.

Gilly shook her head, looking concerned. "Our mistress has been gone for some time, sir. She had a visit from a raven, and departed for the North. Said she had things to attend to."

"A Raven?" Benjen asked, surprised. While the Black Brothers had long offered to give Wiz a rookery, the Witch of the North had always refused, saying she was neutral and did not meddle in the affairs of men.

"Yes, at least I think so. It was a seven colored bird, and glimmered like the rainbow. Never seen such a thing in all my years sir. Oh, begging your pardon, you'll want to shop. Our stock is running a bit low, I'm afraid, with the mistress gone. But there's still warm clothes and hot food, and beds if you need them."

Benjen suppressed a sigh, but nodded. He didn't need another polkadot scarf or a color changing toothbrush, but it was traditional to buy something from the Witch's Shop whenever you visited. Even if the rangers typically burned the junk or simply threw it away. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of Wiz. Though she was kind and pleasant, she was also the closest thing to a god Beyond the Wall.

No one knew precisely when the Witch of the North had first appeared, but it had been not long after the Andal Invasion of the Kingdoms of the First Men. That meant that Wiz, the Witch of the North, was at least two thousand years old, and perhaps far older than even that. The earliest mentions in the Watch's Records of Wiz indicated she'd simply appeared one day, saving a patrol of Rangers from an attack by the risen dead. She'd not simply destroyed the corpses as most men did, but instead guided the souls of the fallen to their eternal rest.

Not long after, Wiz's Shop and Sundries had appeared. There had been a clash of Wildlings and Black Brothers nearby, which had swiftly ended when Wiz had walked out of a swirl of snow and politely but firmly informed the combatants that she would tolerate no violence or slaughter in her lands. Those who objected soon realized that Wiz could do far more than guide restless spirits.

Benjen had seen Wiz fight exactly once, though fight wasn't really the right word. A giant had gotten drunk, and had attempted to take one of Wiz's girls, for purposes that made Benjen shudder to contemplate. The brute had just grabbed the screaming woman when Wiz walked out of a shimmer in the air. She had raised a hand, and with a word, sent a spear of ice larger than a man through the giant's chest. Then she had burned the body with a casual gesture and sent the spirit on. She'd looked sad as she did so, but there had been no mercy in her actions.

Perhaps magic was dead below the Wall, but above it, that was not the case. And the Witch of the North would have made even the strongest of the Bloodmages of Old Valyria whimper in fear.

And if something could best the Witch...Benjen shivered, and bought a novelty pen shaped like a 'giraffe,' whatever that was. He then sat down to compose a hasty letter back to Castle Black.

Winter was coming.

Dice clattered against wood, and Megumin let out a hoot of triumph. "My Dragon swoops down upon your weak cavalry, and with its flames purifies their souls and sends them to the next life."

"You do," Kazuma agreed. Then he grinned maliciously. "But your poor beast has betrayed you."

"Ha! Your army is shattered, broken! You have only a few pathetic pieces which will soon I-" Megumin cut off as Kazuma moved his light horse through a gap in Megumin's lines, left by her dragon's vicious assault on Kazuma's vulnerable troops. The horse stopped beside Megumin's Queen (she had insisted on having a queen instead of a king, and as it turned out Kazuma had a specially made figure for Nymeria of the Rhyone). With a finger, Kazuma knocked over the Queen, his horse standing triumphant.

"That's cheating!" Megumin wailed.

"That's Cyvasse," Kazuma told her with a shrug. "Don't matter that you killed more of my pieces. Your queen is dead, and my king yet lives. I win."

"NOOOOOOO!" Megumin cried, falling to her knees and clutching at her hair. "It's not fair! How do you keep winning!? I was even rolling better than you for once!"

"Hey, you're getting better. You had me up against a wall: I had to sacrifice a bunch of pieces to get you to leave yourself open," Kazuma pointed out.

Megumin sniffed and looked away, her lip sticking out in a pout. "You could let me just win for once."

Kazuma raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

"Well no, but you could at least pretend and let me think I had," Megumin grumbled as she began to pick up her pieces.

Outside, a steady rain was falling as a summer squall had blown in from the Narrow Sea. Despite her reluctance to spend time inside, Megumin had been persuaded to partake in a gaming session with the prince, and to her surprise had discovered a passion for Cyvasse, especially the "modified and expanded rules" that Kazuma had brewed up.

They had been back in King's Landing for a week, and already both of them had explored more of the Red Keep than Kazuma had managed in his first 12 years of life. They had delved deep into the Dragon Pits (with Sandor and Chomusuke following along) gone through the kitchens and servants quarters, and generally caused enough mayhem that the court was already discussing the changes that the Prince's new lady had wrought.

"Hey, whatcha up to?" Cecily called, striding into the room without bothering to knock. Yunyun looked up from the book she had been reading in the corner with Myrcella and Tommen and smiled.

"They're playing Cyvasse, but we're reading about the history of King's Landing. I need to know all about what it's like to live here if I'm going to make friends."

"Well from what I've heard you've managed to get quite the start on that already. Just how many tea parties have you had?" Cecily asked in amusement.

"Lots!" Myrcella said happily. "It's been so nice! Mother never let me have tea with people like Lollys Stokeworth, but she's actually very kind."

"Well, you have fun with that. Megumin, Eddy wants you and Kazuma."

"Why? We didn't even do anything!" Megumin protested even before she remembered that they had, in fact, gone down to the kitchen and made off with a tray of pastries that they had shared with their siblings, which probably counted as "something."

"Oh relax, he's got something fun planned for the both of you. He said something about giving you a real magic sword," Cecily laughed, plucking a pastry off the tray and taking a bite. "Go on, I'm supposed to give lessons to the rest of the munchkins while you two do that."

"What sorts of lessons?" Tommen asked suspiciously. He was growing to share his older brother's dislike of the maesters' instruction, if for no other reason than that Tommen considered Kazuma to be his own personal idol and attempted to emulate nearly everything his big brother did.

"Fun ones! We're gonna learn about the goddesses and why Aqua is clearly the best one. Oh calm down, Yunyun, I'm keeping it appropriate for children."

Kazuma and Megumin hurried out, if for no other reason than to escape religious instruction, even if Cecily's tended towards the colorful.

"You ever think it's weird that Aqua's a maiden goddess and her followers are so…" Kazuma waved his hand vaguely back toward Cecily, who did indeed encapsulate just about every negative stereotype of the Axis Sect in one person.

"I dunno, are you a virgin NEET and still a pervert?" Megumin teasted, then whooped and ran off as Kazuma raced furiously after her. There was the sound of swearing from behind them, and the two children turned to see Sandor lumbering along after them in leather armor, Chomusuke bounding along at his side.

A few people had protested that dire wolves the size of ponies did not belong in the Red Keep. Megumin had argued that the wolves were not that big, and upon further inspection all three of the dire wolves had seemed to have shrunk down to be smaller even than a normal wolf. Robb had been rather baffled by it, but Megumin had been delighted to discover she was in possession of a magical familiar.

Of course, when they had gone riding the wolves had suddenly been the size of horses again, which had only made Robb mutter under his breath. Grey Wind had looked a bit ashamed and seemed to have shrunk slightly. Until Chomusuke nipped at him and appeared to taunt her brother, at which point Grey Wind had gone back to being the biggest out of the three. Robb had given up and simply accepted the fact that the wolf pups they'd found waiting for them by the side of the road were indeed magical blessings from the goddesses as Megumin had always claimed.

Interestingly, Megumin's father appeared not to have been surprised in the slightest that they had variably sized wolves, which considering that he now knew that three of his children were budding sorceresses was perhaps not as shocking as it could have been.

After a dash across the courtyard to the Tower of the Hand that left them both slightly sodden, Megumin and Kazuma hurried up to Lord Eddard's study, where he was hard at work.

"Damn you Robert, I never asked for this," the Hand was muttering as he signed parchments.

"Hey dad, what's up?" Megumin said, hurrying into the room.

Eddard looked up, smiling at the two out of breath children as Sandor took up a position outside of the Hand's door. He was adamant that the prince wasn't to leave his sight again, as while Sandor didn't know about the bandits, he did think that Kazuma had nearly been killed by a cataclysmic event, and seemed to believe that he could have somehow prevented it. That might even have been true, as most bandits would have taken one look at the Hound and found someone else to bother.

"Two things. First, there's to be a Grand Tourney in honor of my appointment as Hand and to celebrate your betrothal. Ravens are going out today to all the Great Houses, and it will be held in six weeks time."

"A tourney?!" Megumin squealed. "That's so amazing!"

"Eh, they're OK. Dad has them all the time," Kazuma said with a shrug. Then he eyed Megumin and added. "But I'm sure it will be interesting to see your first one."

"Will there be a Melee?! And a joust?! And what about archery?! Kazuma should compete in the archery competition!" Megumin declared.

Kazuma blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, if you think so…"

"You totally have to! Do you think your archery skills are magical? Is that cheating? We should totally do it, but we'll have to make sure you don't get caught by the Master of Games and-"

"The prince is free to compete, and I hardly think magic is likely to be forbidden as most do not believe it exists beyond the blessings granted by the Faith of the Seven," Eddard said with a chuckle. "Thoros of Myr is likely to compete with his fiery blade if what Robert claims is true. But this news is not the only reason I called you here."

"Oh?" Megumin asked, looking anxious and thinking of stolen sweets.

"There's someone I would introduce to you. Come." Standing, her father led Megumin and Kazuma to a large empty chamber within the Tower. Inside they found only a man sitting at a plain table in the corner, the rest of the room bare stone.

"Ah, you are here, that is good," the man said, standing and taking up three wooden swords. He was of middling height, and had a wrinkled bald head and a large nose, along with a large golden earring hanging from each ear. Megumin decided he looked a bit like a pirate, which was pretty cool.

"Megumin, Kazuma, this is Syrio Forel, once the First Sword of Braavos, and a master Water Dancer," Eddard said.

"Dancing?" Megumin asked, making a face. Yunyun liked dancing, but Megumin thought it was silly.

"He's a blade master?" Kazuma asked, tilting his head to one side. "He looks like a pirate."

"I know right?!" Megumin gasped, a wide grin spreading on her face.

"A pirate? Syrio is no brigand. No, I am here to teach you the Water Dance. Normally, Syrio does not teach two boys at once, but the Hand has offered triple the pay, so Syrio accedes."

"She's not a boy," Kazuma snapped, his face flushing.

"Girl, boy, it does not matter. A Water Dancer is a blade; no more."

"Wait, are you really letting me take sword lessons?" Megumin asked, turning to her father, her heart fluttering in excitement.

"Since it seems it is hardly possible to prevent you from attempting to learn, I decided it was best if you had a proper teacher," Eddard said, giving Megumin a quick hug. "Go on. It will be good for both you and the prince to learn the blade. As he seems to favor the Water Dancer's style already, the King and I have decided to attempt a more novel method of arms instruction for the both of you."

"I have heard you know the blade, boy," Syrio said, tossing Kazuma a sword, which he fumbled out of the air. "Let us see if that is true."

For a moment, Kazuma looked as though he were going to beg off, but then he rolled his shoulders, then kicked off his boots, which made Syrio's eyebrows raise. "Yeah, OK. Guess it wouldn't kill me to practice a little."

Kazuma fell into his fighting stance, standing up on his toes, sword arm forward, off arm raised behind him.

"Interesting. Have you studied the Water Dancers path before, boy?" Syrio asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Nah, not really. Just, you know, figured a few things out."

"Hmm. Let us see." Syrio's blade suddenly flicked out like a snake, and Kazuma danced to the side, slapping the sword away. Syrio pursued, and the air was filled with the sharp clatter of wood on wood. At first, Kazuma had a confident grin on his face, easily evading Syrio's attacks and the dancing master barely avoiding the prince's strikes.

However, the grin soon slipped from Kazuma's face, and Megumin realized that Syrio was pressing the prince ever harder, his blade moving faster and in increasingly complex patterns, then in what appeared to be utterly random attacks. Now Kazuma was sweating, his face a mask of concentration as he continued the dance. No longer was Kazuma attacking, only barely fending off Syrio. Then, Syrio feinted, and Kazuma failed to counter properly. He dodged the first attack, but the Syrio delivered three swift strikes to Kazuma's arm, causing him to drop the sword.

"Friggin' ow," the prince grumbled, but Megumin raced to his side.

"That was so cool! Why didn't you fight like that before?! You really did look like you were dancing!" she spun to Syrio, and the sword master actually took half a step back, shock spreading over his face, for Megumin's eyes were glowing with an unearthly red light. "You have to teach me how to do that!"

"That would be what Syrio has been hired to do," the dancing master said, recovering his composure. "What of you, girl?"

"I'm not as good as Kazuma, but I do know one trick," Megumin said, picking up Kazuma's sword and reaching down to take off her own shoes.

"And what is-" Syrio cut off as Megumin quickly threw both her shoes at the man, then jumped at him, sword swinging wildly. Syrio delivered a sharp rap to the back of Megumin's legs as he dodged to the side, causing Megumin to cry out and fall to the ground.

"Not bad, girl, but you betray yourself. Your eyes, your hands, your breath, if you are to try to catch your foe unawares, first you must learn how to fool yourself," Syrio said sternly. He nodded to himself. "Again, but no foolishness this time."

Megumin didn't last nearly as long as Kazuma, but Syrio still seemed pleased. "You have not been learning this brutish flailing about you Westerosi call fighting. This is good; you have less to unlearn." Turning to Eddard, the swordmaster inclined his head. "I believe these two can learn the Water Dance, Lord Stark."

"Excellent. I'm certain they'll both be eager, and well behaved students," Eddard said. He gave Megumin a hug and Kazuma an approving pat on the shoulder. "You did well, my prince. I'm certain your father will be pleased to see your progress, and to see you compete in the archery competition."

Kazuma flushed to hear the praise, and turned back to the lesson, paying just as rapt attention as Megumin was. While a normal person might have wondered about being ordered to go and stalk cats, to Megumin, such a lesson made perfect sense: after all, if one wished to be graceful, what better way than to seek out and capture the beasts, thereby claiming their power as your own?

Cast of Characters

_Wiz as; Crastor (kinda, but fuck that guy)_

_Gilly as; Much happier_

_Benjen Stark as: I'm sure he'll be fine. No one's died yet, right?_

_Tormund Giantsbane as; This is the book version, guys. He's like 60._

_Syrio Forel as; Possibly a pirate?_

_And The Kinslayer as; The Lord of the Others_

_And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire in a mad, mad world._


	12. Wolf on the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komekko is bitten by the Good Idea Fairy and goes to save her Big Bro Jon from being hungry.

_ Written and Directed by: Full Paragon _

_ Produced by: The Grand Cogitator  _

_ Brought to you by: Jose Cuervo. Seeing things that aren’t there? Drink enough Tequila, and you sure will! _

_ Chapter 11: Wolf On The Run _

Komekko ran out into the courtyard, Vanir hot on her heels, though to everyone else it appeared she was carrying him over her shoulder. “Hi Lord Tyrion! Did you bring me some dinners?” 

“I’m afraid not, Lady Stark,” the little man chuckled, accepting a hand from one of the guards to aid him in dismounting. 

“Aww. What about my big brother? Is he OK?” Komekko asked eagerly. 

“Jon Snow was hale when I left him,” Tyrion agreed, giving Komekko a nod and one of those grown up looks.

  
Wrinkling her nose, Komekko frowned at Tyrion. “Do they not have enough food? I’ll make sure mommy sends more with the next tithe: We have extra ‘cause so many people went with daddy and Megumin and Yunyun and Robb.”

“Komekko, let Lord Tyrion catch his breath at least,” her mother ordered, walking over. She gave a slight bow. “Welcome back to Winterfell, my lord. I trust your sojourn to the Wall was enlightening?” 

“It was,” Tyrion agreed. He looked to Komekko and smiled. “I do have something for you, young lady, even if I would encourage you not to eat it. Jyck, if you would?” 

One of Tyrion’s men reached into a saddlebag, and pulled out several brightly colored objects, which were handed over to Komekko and Rickon. 

  
“What is it?” Kommeko asked curiously, turning the small object over in her hands. It was fuzzy, as if covered in fur, and was yellow and brown, with an animal head of some sort on one end and a point on the other. 

“It’s a ‘giraffe pen’. I traded for it from one of the Black Brothers as a curiosity. It writes quite well, better than a quill and ink, but it's so absurd looking I can’t think what it might be aside from a child’s plaything. They said it’s from ‘Wiz’s Shop and Sundries,’ whatever that is.”

“Did moi hear correctly?” Vanir said, perking up. “Mistress, inquire if he is certain about this shop’s name, and if the keeper becomes poorer the harder she works.”

“Vanir wants to know if you know who Wiz is, and if she’s poor,” Komekko said. 

  
“I don't rightly know,” Tyrion confessed. “The shop is supposedly run by a wilding witch of some sort beyond the wall, which I did not care to venture to.”

“Hmm, fascinating, moi had not suspected moi’s old business partner was still unalive, nor that she trode upon this world,” Vanir mused, taking the pen and examining it. “This does appear to be the sort of useless trinket she would sell, however.”

“Please, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Lord Tyrion. Stay as long as you like,” Catelyn offered, smiling at their guest as Rickon giggled and ran about with his new toy. 

“Thank you. Our journey was not overly taxing, but I would rest a day or two before departing once more. Have you word of your husband’s party?” Tyrion inquired.

Catelyn hesitated, but then smiled and nodded. “He and your family have arrived safely in King’s Landing; we had a raven naught but a day ago.”

“Ah, good to hear. It will be a long journey back to King’s Landing, but I feel much the wiser for having seen the end of the world. Lady Stark, if you would, a word in private?” Tyrion asked. 

“Of course. We can speak in my husband’s solar.” With that, mommy and the dwarf walked off, but Komekko frowned. Tyrion had used the grown up voice when talking about Jon. Maybe he was hurt. Lowering her voice, Komekko spoke in a whisper.

“Vanir, go listen, I want to know what Tyrion says about my big brother. See if he says anything about Wiz. I think I knew her, right?” 

“She was one of your generals when you first rose to power as the Devil Queen of Belzerg, yes. Dear Wiz has the same silly obsession that you do, mistress, in that she ever seeks to preserve mortal life. Why, moi does not know; they shall die in a few decades anyway, what of it if they perish a bit sooner?” 

“Vanir, be good. I know you don’t like being mean, you’re just being silly,” Komekko said, giving her familiar an exasperated look. 

“It is true; moi tragically has gained a semblance of morality in the millenia bonded to thee,” Vanir agreed. “However, as moi also acquired a reason to continue to exist, moi supposes it was a worthy trade off. Fear not, mistress, moi shall convey the words of thy mother and the lustful man who is ever faithful to a woman long dead to you.”

“Thanks! I’m gonna go see if I can find some snacks.”

Komekko wandered off, but before long she heard a voice in her ear, that of her mother and Tyrion as they spoke. 

“Lady Stark, what do you know of the Others?” Tyrion’s voice asked. 

“Ah. Did you hear tales from the Black Brothers?” her mother responded. 

“I did. I had thought them nought but fairy tales, but...here.” 

  
“He has produced a jar of vile liquid with a zombie’s hand within,” Vanir explained. “It yet twitches and moves, though the magic will not linger long away from the Great Barrier to the north.”

“What’s a zombie?” Komekko whispered, craftily sneaking towards an unguarded platter of freshly baked bread. 

“An undead. Here I believe they call them ‘others’ mistress. They are weak, nothing to trouble thyself over. Ah, they continue.”

Mommy spoke again as Komekko snagged two loaves and booked it from the kitchen even as Turnip yelled and tried to grab her. “I once thought as you did, Lord Tyrion. I was a Southron myself when I first came north with my lord husband. Now, I am not so certain. Benjen Stark speaks of them as though they are quite real, and that the Wall is all that protects the realms of men from the dead rising throughout the Seven Kingdoms.”

  
“But this is madness!” Tyrion declared. “How does every lord not know of this? The wall was barely manned! They are understrength, in desperate need of supplies and more bodies! And something queer was in those woods, my lady. I saw...I do not know. Only that it glowed with an eerie, pale light in the dimness of dusk.”

“Because it is far from home. It is near 200 leagues to Moat Cailin from Winterfell. Almost twice that to the Wall. The others are far away; a burden for the North, if they are even real.If people in the south fret, it is over Harrenhall and what stirs in the Gods Eye and the Blighted Isle, or perhaps the dead that roam Dorn yet.” ”

“Then it is well my nephew weds a Northern lady. This is perhaps a more terrible threat even than the restless dead of Harrenhal or monstrous rotting fish,” Tyrion said grimly. “I shall see to it that this is brought before the King, and your husband. Something stirs beyond the Wall. Your husband’s brother went to seek out this ‘Wiz.’ She is a sorceress of some sort, ancient and terrible. But the Watch seems to fear an inclusion of monsters out of legend.”

Having escaped Turnip, Komekko sat atop the roof of the kitchen and gnawed on her bread, listening.

“You believe this to be true?” Catelyn asked, worried.

“I do. I bear letters from Ser Jeor Mormont, to the king and your lord husband. He fears dire times will come this winter. And even The Long Summer cannot last forever.”

“Perhaps I am too much a Stark now, or perhaps it is the child I bear, but I think now of the Stark words: Winter is Coming, Lord Tyrion. If what you say is true...perhaps my husband should not have gone south. But…”

“You are with child? That is good news! Is it known yet?” Tyrion asked. 

“Yes; I knew not long after my husband departed. It is likely I shall bear another child in his absence, for I must remain here in Winterfell. This one shall be a son, we shall call him Bran.”

“You see quite certain,” Tyrion said, his tone amused. 

  
“Yes. But for my sons born and unborn...Travel swiftly, Lord Tyrion. Perhaps it would not be well for you to linger overlong here in Winterfell.”

“No. I shall stay only a few days, long enough for our horses to rest. I must say, I never thought to receive such a warm welcome from the Starks; our houses have long held little love for one another.”

“That was before my daughter was to wed your nephew. And before your sister and I shared a bottle of wine in commiseration for their misdeeds.”

“Some would think it a match arranged by the goddesses themselves,” Tyrion chuckled. “Are you well, my lady? You seem pale.”

“Just...perhaps you are more right than you know, Lord Tyrion,” Catelyn laughed, though her mirth had a strange quality to it. 

“You know, Cersei always said Kazuma was born under signs from the Goddesses. I have heard the same about your daughters. Who knows? Perhaps this was their grand conspiracy to aid us mortals in forgetting our feud.”

“He is correct, by the way, mistress. I told you I detected that meddlesome goddess here not long ago,” Vanir commented. 

“Hmm. Vanir, come here. I got some thinking to do,” Komekko ordered. 

There was a puff of sulphurous smoke, and Komekko let out a heavy sigh. “You weren’t supposed to use magic, Vanir. You know what maester Luwin says about magic.”

“Mistress, moi cannot help moi’s nature,” Vanir chuckled, taking a seat on the roof. “What are thy thoughts?”

“I think Jon’s in trouble,” Komekko pronounced, picking crumbs off her dress and popping them into her mouth. “We’re gonna go rescue him.”

“Of course, mistress,” Vanir agreed. “Perhaps we shall have a chance to drop in to visit Wiz?”

“Is she nice? I think I remember her being nice,” Komekko mused, scratching at her head. 

“Most beings do tend to be fond of Wiz, save the fouler sorts. She was a close companion to thee for many lifetimes,” Vanir dutifully informed. 

“Great! Then we’ll go after we get some dinners to bring with us,” Komekko said, hopping down off the roof. It was a far enough drop she should have broken both of her legs, but Komekko was fuzzy on just how durable most people were, and thus didn’t realize she was drawing on a great deal of magic to stick the landing. 

It wasn’t that easy, of course. Tyrion left after a couple days, and Komekko kept accidentally eating all the food she hoarded. Then, she hit upon a brilliant scheme, and stole a cooking pot and everything else Vanir said was needed to prepare food on the road. 

  
“Hoost will catch us dinners, won’t you Hoost?” Komekko asked her pet. 

  
The dire wolf thumped his tale on the ground and gave Komekko a doggy grin, which made her laugh and hug him. 

“We’ll go tonight!” Komekko decided. She had a vague idea that running away from home was bad, but she really was worried about Jon. She carefully wrote a note to her mother and set it on her bed, explaining that she was going to make sure her Big Bro Jon was OK and that the zombies were not going to eat everyone. Vanir had to help her with some of the spelling, but the funny pen really was pretty nice to write with. 

Then, she snuck out of her room. She did have to use a little magic, and felt bad that Fat Tom would probably get in trouble for her casting Sleep on him while he was guarding the poston gate, but she resolved to give him some dinners when she got back to make it all better. 

Then, Hoost got big, and Vanir got small, and Komekko hopped up on her wolf’s back, and they rode off towards Castle Black in the dim light of the twilight that passed for a summer night. Hoost, being a demigod, was tireless, and could have run the entire way to Castle Black which was Very Far. 

However, his mistress was decidedly not tireless, and after a while Hoost moved into the woods, depositing Komekko in a hollow and tucking her into the blanket they had brought. Komekko snuggled up next to Vanir and fell asleep as Hoost went to procure some game for his mistress. 

“Well well well. What have we got here, Stiv?” 

Komekko blinked bleary eyes and sat up to find two filthy men crouched over her.

“Hi, do you have food? I’m hungry,” Komekko yawned, smacking her lips. 

“Hungry, she says, Wallen. And here we ain’t had nothin’ to eat since we robbed that holdfast two days back,” the man Komekko figured was Stiv chuckled. 

“Mistress, these men mean to violate you, then murder you,” Vanir informed her. 

“That’s bad. You’re not supposed to kill people,” Komekko said, frowning at the men.

“Who are you to tell us what to do, girl?” Wallen growled. 

  
Both men jerked back as Komekko jumped up, striking a pose just as her Big Sis had taught her. “BEHOLD! I AM KOMEKKO! CUTEST LITTLE SISTER OF THE HOUSE OF STARK! And if you’re bad, I’ll steal your dinners and give you spankings!” 

“What’s this then?” a new voice called, and a tall woman strode out of the trees, frowning at the two men. “What are you two crows up to?”

“Piss off, Osha, we found the brat,” Stiv snarled. He looked down at Komekko, frowning. “Was just going to bugger her and kill her, but if she’s a Stark…”

“They already want us dead, but if we take her, she’s a hostage,” Wallen chuckled. “And we can bugger her as much as we want.”

“She is a child. Leave her,” Osha ordered, raising a large spear.

“Or what?” Stiv sneered. “There’s two of us and one of you. Take her first, Wallen. I’ll keep an eye on the wilding bitch.”

Wallen raised a hand to grab Komekko, who jerked back, feeling, for the first time in her life, real terror. She was, after all, really seven years old, and despite her terrible powers, this smelly, crude man scared her. “Vanir!” 

To Wallen’s point of view, a man simply appeared before him, wearing a mask and with a terrifying glow in his eyes. He had just enough time to realize he had made a terrible mistake, and to feel utter despair. The deserter from the Night’s Watch didn’t even have a chance to fully comprehend that, perhaps, there were more terrifying things than Others in the wide world. Then, Vanir snapped his fingers, and the earth rose about Wallen and consumed him utterly. 

  
Komekko sat down, weeping, as Vanir turned to regard Osha, who had frozen, her spear through Stiv’s guts. 

“What of the women, mistress? She seems to mean thee no ill will,” Vanir mused. 

“I don’t know!” Komekko wailed. “I want to go home! I want my mommy!”

“What...what are you?” Osha gasped, withdrawing her spear from Stiv as the man let out a death rattle and flopped to the ground. 

“Ah! How rude of moi! I am Vanir, Duke of Hell, and Familiar to my Mistress Komekko of House Stark,” Vanir declared with a sweeping bow. “Moi thanks you, o warrior who flees an enemy beyond her reckoning. Tell moi, has thou met Wiz, of Wiz’s Shop and Sundries? She is a dear friend.”

“You know the witch?” Osha gasped, taking half a step back again, her spear leveled at Vanir. 

“Ah, moi sees you have indeed met Wiz; how peculiar,” Vanir said, rubbing his chin. He glanced down at his mistress, who was still sobbing, and frowned. He was terrible with mortals, children in particular. “Moi sees that thou seeks a shelter from the brewing storm in the north. Very well: Moi shall make thee an offer, woman of the wild and free who seeks the safety of bondage. Comfort moi’s mistress, for though moi possess great power, it is beyond moi’s grasp to dry her tears.”

Osha regarded Vanir warrily, but then looked to Komekko. “She is a Stark?’

“Indeed. The youngest female spawn of the Lord and Lady of that name,” Vanir agreed. 

Slowly, Osha set down her spear, then knelt and picked Komekko up, wrapping her in strong arms. The little girl clung to the spear wife, hiccuping and terrified. 

“There, there, child, all is well.”

“Mistress!” 

A youth with skin the color of pitch and glowing amber eyes crashed out of the woods, wearing only dark furs about his waist. Osha jerked back, until Komekko looked up.

“H-hi, Hoost. I want to go home. I don’t like running away anymore.”

“Mistress, forgive me,” Hoost said, kneeling and raising his hands in supplication. “I ran as quickly as I could when I sensed your peril. I have failed you.”

“N-no, I’m OK. Vanir and this nice lady saved me,” Komekko whimpered. “What’s your name?”

“I am called Osha, Spearwife of Clan Cragfist. And...and the last of Clan Cragfist.”

“This is Hoost. He’s my doggy,” Komekko sniffed.

  
Osha nearly dropped the girl in disgust. These kneelers. To refer to a servant as-and then she looked back, and found that instead of a man, a wolf the size of an Ice Bear was lying on the ground, whimpering. 

“Thanks, Osha,” Komekko said, resting her head on the wildling’s shoulder. “Can you take me back home? I’m hungry, and I want my mommy.”

“I...I shall do that,” Osha agreed, feeling somewhat faint. It was true, what they said. Gods really did walk these southern lands. Perhaps she could be safe here. 

  
“Ok. Vanir?” 

  
“Yes, mistress?”

“Go find Jon, make sure he’s OK. And look for Wiz too. Tell her I say hi, but I don’t remember her ‘cause I’m seven.”

“Mistress! To depart from thy side-”

“It’s OK. Hoost will keep me safe, and so will Osha. She’s a nice lady, right?”

Osha looked to the strange god, who studied her for a moment before nodding. “Indeed. She is a kindly creature, if hurt. Serve the mistress well, mortal, and thou shall be rewarded. And indeed, if there be any shelter in this world, thou shall find it within her service. For she is Komekko, Devil Queen of Belzerg and the Seven Hells.”

“Not no more, I’m just a little girl now. Daddy says,” Komekko muttered, hiding her face in Osha’s furs.

“As you say, mistress,” Vanir agreed with a bow. “Moi shall return. Call only my name, and moi will be at thy side.”

With that, Vanir turned and headed north, whistling a happy tune as he went. 

Osha watched the god go, then looked down at the girl in her arms. She was sucking her thumb, and snoring. With a slow shake of her head, Osha looked to the wolf, who was sitting up, head cocked as he regarded Osha.

“Are you a god as well?” Osha asked.

  
The wolf let out a bark, then thumped his tail happily on the ground. Osha was not sure if that was a yes, or a no, but decided it would be best to treat the creature as though it were indeed a god. She picked up her spear, and started down the road, heading south. 

She had not gone far before she saw dust, and heard the thunder of distant hooves. Her every instinct screamed to retreat into the woods, to take cover until the Southerners had passed, but she looked down at the girl in her arms, still asleep. If she was the bloodkin of Benjen Stark, she was important to these kneelers. And besides, she had a god with her. What good would steel and armor avail against such a creature?

And so, Osha simply stood, leaning on her spear and waiting as the riders approached. 

“You there!” the lead rider, a weathered warrior with long white sideburns barked. “Stand and deliver, wildling!”

“Be at ease. I believe I have the child you seek,” Osha called. “She has had a hard night. Two deserts of the Night's Watch accosted her. I and this... wolf, slew them. Fear not, she is hale; no harm came to her.”

“Goddesses be praised,” the warrior breathed, and jumped from his horse, hurrying over. Osha attempted to hand Komekko over, but she stirred and clung tightly to her. 

“Lady Komemeko, are you well?” the man asked gently.

“I want my mommy, Ser Rodrick,” Komekko whimpered. 

“You shall have her. She is frantic with worry. What possessed you to run away?” Ser Rodrick sighed, then motioned to one of his men. “Give the lady and her bearer your horse, Alebelly. She may be a wildling, but she has brought our lady safely back to us.”

“Keep your beast, Southerner,” Osha said, eyeing the animal mistrustfully. “I have never ridden a horse; my own two feet are good enough for me. How far must we travel? I am fresh, and can run many miles yet today.”

“We are but three leagues from Winterfell. By horse, less than an hour. I have seen you wildings run; it would take you about the same,” Ser Rodrick replied. 

“Then take my spear. I will carry the girl,” Osha stated, adjusting Komekko in her arms.

Ser Rodrick took the spear, eyeing the wolf. “Her I expect this sort of thing from, but I had thought to find better sense in a wolf.”

  
Hoost whimpered and looked down, and the old knight muttered something under his breath about “going mad as Lady Megumin” and remounted. 

The next thing Komekko knew, she was back in Winterfell, and being taken in her weeping mother’s arms. 

  
“I’m sorry I was bad. I won’t ever run away again,” Komekko promised. “Can I have breakfast now?”

“I should send you to your rooms with naught but bread and water for a week!” Catelyn cried, half laughing as she did so. “You nearly frightened me to death, child. Come. Go with Ser Rodrick. He will find you something to eat.”

  
Before she went though, Catelyn turned to Osha, who was standing awkwardly in the courtyard. Taking a deep breath, Catelyn stepped forward. 

To her shock, the wildling dropped to her knees, bowing her head. She was a tall woman, and well built, even taller than Robb had been when last Catelyn had seen him. 

“I offer you my service, high lady Stark,” the wildling said. “I can do whatever you need: I’ve a strong back, and willing hands. I don’t know your Southern ways, but I can learn.”

Catelyn considered, then spoke. “I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

The wildling scrambled to her feet, looking confused, while the guards regarded their lady thoughtfully. 

“You brought my daughter back to me, and from what I gather, at great personal risk to yourself. That spear is yours?”

“Aye. I was a spearwife,” the woman agreed. 

“Then take up your spear once more. What is your name?”

“Osha, high lady,” the wildling said, hesitantly accepting her weapon from Alebelly. 

“Then, Osha, I name you my daughter's shield. It seems she has need of one. May you ever ward her from danger.”

The wilding blinked. “Didn’t think you kneelers let women hold a spear. Er, sorry, high lady.”

“No, it is quite alright,” Catelyn laughed. “I will forgive much of someone who delivers me my daughter from the jaws of death. Come. I shall give you food, and a place to stay.”

Dutifully, the spearwife followed Catelyn, but paused when the high lady did.

  
“I know it is much to ask, but...did my daughter have a doll with her? We cannot find Vanir anywhere.”

“The god?” Osha asked, confused at the reference to a doll. 

“God? No, he is a doll, a toy. I think my daughter may have lost him. He was her constant companion. It is silly, but…”

“He left, high lady. The mistress sent him to the wall to look after her brother.”

  
“Did what now?” Catelyn asked, now frowning. 

“The god. She sent him to the Wall,” Osha said, pointing to the north. “To look after her brother and find the Witch.”

Deciding the wilding was slightly mad, Catelyn only nodded, giving up the toy as lost. Later, she would recall the conversation, and wonder how she’d ever thought such a thing. 

_ Cast of Characters _

_ Komekko as; Actually a little girl _

_ Vanir as; The God of Trolling _

_ Hoost as; A Good Pupper is never late, nor is he early _

_ Tyrion as; Everyone’s fun uncle _

_ Catlyn Stark as; About 180° from where she was in canon _

_  
_ _ Osha as; Sonja the Red  _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as doomsday preppers _


	13. That Wall's Lookin' Kinda Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes a friend, and Yunyun does not. 
> 
> Wait, are we sure about this?

_Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon_

_Scored and Produced by: The Grand Cogitator_

_The Following is a non profit fan based parody. A Song of Ice and Fire, Konosuba, and Game of Thrones, are the property of their respective rights holders. I'd say please support the official release, BUT WHERE'S WINDS OF WINTER, MARTIN!?_

_Chapter 12: That Wall's Lookin' Kinda Thin_

"Lord Baelish, a moment, if you would," Eddard said as the Small Council meeting broke up.

The slim and slight master of coin gave Eddard a knowing smile, and nodded. "Of course, Lord Stark. Always a pleasure to endure your company."

A vein throbbed in Ned's forehead, but he did his best to ignore it, and smiled at the younger man. "I wanted to discuss a few things regarding the late Hand. I am surprised that Jon Arryn was willing to allow the Seven Kingdoms to draw near to the brink of financial ruin. We are millions of dragons in debt, and this new tourney will only worsen the situation."

"And yet, the King will have his little pleasures, as he calls them. Besides, would you deny a tourney in your own honor?" Baelish asked. "Jon Arryn did indeed attempt to curb the King's spending habits, but his mind was troubled, especially near the end."

"Was it?" Eddard thought back to the strange letter he had received at Winterfell. He had meant to investigate the circumstances of his old friend and father figure's death, but with the discovery that his daughters possessed the same dark and terrible powers Megumin had been claiming she had for years had weighed more heavily on his mind, as had the need to mold Kazuma into a man fit to be husband to his daughter. Not to mention his new duties in running the Seven Kingdoms.

"Oh yes, the poor man had been reading a musty old tome, and seemed to find something within it that troubled his mind," Baelish said, looking mournful. "Such a strange thing. He seemed to be in the best of health, then one day, simply took ill and was dead by the next morning."

"Do you suspect foul play, then?" Eddard asked, trying to recall the contents of the letter. It had implicated the queen in the death of Jon Arryn, but to what purpose? Had Jon threatened Kazuma or another of her children somehow?

That didn't seem like the man Eddard had known. The prince could be a trial and was certainly exasperating, but that was no reason to wish the boy harm. He was a boy, after all, and Jon Arryn had once helped to turn both Eddard and Robert into the men they would become.

"I suspect much, but know little," Littlefinger admitted. "There had been some animosity between the Hand and Queen. He had been investigating some of Robert's bastards, which is always a sore subject with her Grace."

"He hasn't changed, has he?" Eddard sighed. That was one thing he would have to ensure that Kazuma never troubled Megumin with. He was fond of the boy, but he would not bring Megumin the grief of an unfaithful husband. It had been bad enough when Catelyn had thought he had been unfaithful once, but Robert's infidelity was infamous. Edric Storm, Robert's bastard by Delena Florent, was the worst of it. He was the only bastard the King had acknowledged, but even Eddard who had kept well out of Southron politicking knew of a dozen more.

"And of this tome, do you know of it?" Eddard asked.

"I believe Grand Maester Pycelle has the volume. You would have to inquire of him as to the title," Baelish said with a shrug. "It was a large, dusty thing. Perhaps Lord Arryn perished of sheer boredom."

"An ill jest, Lord Baelish," Eddard said testily, but added. "I appreciate your thoughts on the matter of Lord Arryn's death, however. Are there many of the King's bastards in the city?

"A fair few, or should I say, a dark haired few," Baelish said, chuckling at his own jape. "Several in my own whorehouses, as a matter of fact. His Grace has been a most loyal customer."

"Are they provided for?" Eddard asked, frowning. Robert was disturbingly disinterested in his children, especially Myrcella, who had latched on to Ned himself as a substitute for the fatherly affection she lacked. Even Kazuma seemed particularly eager to attain Eddard's approval, and he had noticed that Robert rarely acknowledged his heir. Perhaps that would change, now that the boy had picked up the martial pursuits that Robert had ever favored.

"The queen has forbidden Robert from acknowledging any of his baseborn bastards, and the King seems disinterested in children beyond the making of them," Baelish said with a shrug.

Eddard felt a pang, and grimaced. "Then I must beg you to give me a list of those you are aware of. I will look into them, and see that they are cared for."

"Of course, I'll draw up a list and deliver it myself. Such things are best not bandied about. The queen is rather jealous of her husband's affections. Who knows what she would do to a bastard if she were made aware of the child's existence?"

"Cersei is not a monster, Lord Baelish," Eddard said quietly, not noticing that he was addressing the queen by rather familiar terms, and missing the narrowing of Baelish's eyes. "They are children, and she is a mother. Even Catelyn resented my own bastard's presence. Is it a wonder a woman who's husband has been so unfaithful bears little fondness for the fruits of his infidelity?"

"I am surprised to hear you take the side of a Lannister, Lord Stark," Baeliash replied somewhat stiffly, though again, Eddard didn't notice the subtle shifts. "I had thought you were less fond of them."

"If I were so unfond of Lannisters, I would not have betrothed my daughter to Cersei's son," Eddard replied. "Good day to you, Lord Baelish. Please deliver that list of Roberts children at the earliest possible time. No child should go uncared for, especially not the children of the King."

With that, Eddard strode away, his thoughts dark and troubled. He was able to attain the thick volume from Grand Maester Pycelle with little trouble, but set it unopened on his desk in the Tower of the Hand, interrupted by Kazuma and Megumin's latest feud, this time over who had caught some damned cat.

The both of them were dressed in stained tunics and trousers that would have been better suited to stable boys, and indeed, by the amount of dung and other filth coating them, they appeared to be aspiring to the position.

"I had that stupid tomcat, and she stole it!" Kazuma argued as Ned listened in exasperation.

To Eddard's horror, his daughter actually stuck her tongue out at her betrothed. "You only had it because I cornered him! I would have had him first if you hadn't elbowed me out of the way!"

"Well that was no reason to throw a road apple at me!" Kazuma snarled.

"You knocked me into a turd, it was only fair that-"

"ENOUGH!" Eddard bellowed. "You are both behaving like spoiled children! Megumin, Kazuma, since you both seem to enjoy manure so much, you shall spend the rest of the day mucking out the stables under the supervision of Sandor Clegane and Septa Cecily, who I remind you BOTH smeared with dung with your foolish bickering!"

"WHAT?! But I'm the prince, you can't-" Kazuma began, but Eddard raised a hand.

"I am the Hand of the King, but more importantly, I am your future father-in-law. You have disgraced yourself, and my daughter. Will you accept your punishment with honor, or will you behave like a villain who hides behind his titles to escape justice?"

Kazuma shifted on his feet, his face sullen, but he nodded.

"Good. Megumin has some experience mucking out stables. I am certain you will both learn a valuable lesson from this. Clegane?"

"Yes, Lord Stark?" Sandor called, leaning in from the hall.

"See to it that these children are productive in their new vocation."

"Aye, Lord Stark," Sandor growled, eyeing both the children with no small amount of vindictive malice. His tabard was still stained with dung, and he smelled nearly as strongly of fury as of horse manure.

"Then be gone. I do not wish to see either of you again until you have become appropriately penitent," Eddard ordered.

"Yes, sir," Megumin muttered, and Kazuma echoed her, for a wonder.

"Sorry, Sandor," Kazuma sighed as they left. "And...I'm sorry, Megumin, I shouldn't have shoved you to get at the cat."

"...it's OK. It was an accident. I shouldn't have pasted you with the manure. Even if you deserved it."

Eddard rubbed his nose for a long moment after the two children left, then turned to the innumerable paperwork that came with running a kingdom. He'd been at work for about half an hour when someone cleared their throat quite loudly behind him. He turned to find Jamie Lannister standing at the doorway, an amused look on his face.

"The queen has had word of your new stablehands, Lord Stark," Jamie said, and Eddard could see his lip twitching towards a smile. "She has sent me as an envoy to express her feelings on the matter."

"If she wishes to rescue the boy, she can try. I hope he has more honor than to allow his mother to rescue him from a fate of his own making," Eddard growled.

"Oh no, not at all." Jamie held out a bottle of wine and a bag of herbs. "For the headache, you see. My sister finds the tonic most useful in dealing with my nephew's peculiarities."

That got Eddard to laugh, and he motioned Jamie to a chair. "I suppose you could use a bit of tonic yourself, Ser Jamie."

"Mayhaps." Jamie took a seat, and Eddard retrieved a pair of goblets from his beside, pouring two cups, and adding some of the herbs. Jamie accepted the cup, and took a long drink.

"I must say, you are a brave man, Lord Stark," Jamie chuckled. "To accept responsibility not just for the kingdom, but for my nephew… well. Some burdens go beyond the call of duty."

"Sometimes I wonder what is harder to manage. These Seven Kingdoms, or my daughter and your nephew," Eddard admitted. "Once, I would have said the Seven Kingdoms, but that was when I had only to deal with Megumin. Goddesses old and new watch over Catelyn: we received a raven this morning that Komekko ran away from Winterfell for some unknown flight of fancy."

"Goddesses be good, is the girl well?" Jamie asked, looking genuinely concerned as he leaned forward.

"She was found only hours later. Of all things, a wildling woman found her, saving her from two deserters from the Night's Watch," Eddard groaned, taking another long draught.

"A wildling? That is queer. But she is safe at home once more?" Jamie inquired, and Eddard nodded. The kingsguard sighed, shaking his head. "Perhaps the goddesses were kind to me, to put me into the service of the crown that I might never father children. Still, it is enough to look after my niece and nephews. Did you know, Tommen kicked poor Santagar right in the family jewels when the man was trying to give him some sword lessons? When asked about it, the princling claimed that was the first rule of fighting, as taught to him by Kazuma."

The two men shared a laugh, and Eddard poured for them again. "You know, he taught my daughter the same lesson back in Winterfell."

"And now they're learning how to catch cats from this Water Dancer you found," Jamie sighed, finishing his wine and standing. "Though apparently, they'd rather hurl dung at one another like Flea Bottom strays." Jamie turned to go, but paused at the door. "Thank you, Lord Stark. I know you are not over fond of me, or my house, but you have shown a great deal of kindness to my nephew. You are, perhaps, the first man to see my nephew like more than a nuisance, if a high born one. Myself included, to my shame."

"Ser Jamie…" Eddard grasped for words, then found a few. "We have not always seen eye to eye, you and I. Nor our houses, the closest of allies. Perhaps our children, for all their foibles, can lower the barricades their fathers and uncles have put between us."

"Mayhaps, Lord Stark. For my part, I would sooner have you as a friend than a foe," Jamie said, then bowed and left. Eddard missed the look the Lannister knight gave the book on his desk, but not the significance of his words.

A few hours later, Yunyun came by, bringing some food Eddard had no doubt she prepared herself.

"We missed you at the table again, dad," she said, setting down a plate of food on his desk and scooting over a chair of her own.

"My apologies. Your father has been overworked of late," Eddard said, leaning over to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Thank you, Yunyun."

"You're welcome. I want to make sure I don't forget about you, even as I'm making so many new friends," Yunyun said happily. "I know you're working hard, but don't forget to take breaks. You told me a leader can only lead as well as they are rested."

"True enough," Eddard chuckled. "Please, sit. Tell me, which new friends have you made here in King's Landing?"

Yunyun brightened, and spoke of all the new people she had befriended, from high ladies to scullery maids and stable boys, her sister and the prince aside. Her enthusiasm and pleasure at befriending so many people made Eddard smile, and her cooking was delicious as always. Absently, Eddard wondered just how his daughter had learned how to prepare meals, but decided it was likely from Gage. He had no way of knowing that Yunyun had spent several lifetimes culvivating excellent culinary skills as a way to make friends, and that though she didn't remember it, the fruits of her labor were still manifest.

He had just finished his meal when Lord Baelish appeared at the door. "Ah, Lord Stark, this must be your eldest daughter."

Yunyun gave their visitor a wide smile, bouncing up to greet their guest. "Oh, hello, who are you? I'm Yunyun.

"This is Petyr Baelish. He was a friend of your mother's in their youth," Eddard said.

"Such a delightful child," Baelish said, carsessing Yunyun's hair slightly. "You have the look of your mother about you, and perhaps a bit of her tender spirit."

"O-oh, um thanks?" Yunyun stammered, shying away from Littlefinger.

"You have something for me?" Eddard said, rising and stepping forward. To his surprise, Yunyun hid behind him. She was frequently nervous and timid, but rarely shy, and he wondered if perhaps all the new people were wearing on even her.

"The list we spoke of. Ah, I see you have Lord Arryn's book. A good cure for sleeplessness, I imagine, but I suppose perhaps that may be to your taste. Let us hope you don't meet the same fate as it's last reader," Baelish chuckled. "Farewell, Yunyun. Look after your father. I'm sure we're all quite fond of Lord Eddard Stark."

With that, Baelish left with another laugh. When he did, Yunyun reached out and closed the door, then hid behind Eddard again.

"Yunyun? Are you well? I had thought you'd be happy to meet an old friend of your mother's." Eddard said, leaning down to peer into his daughter's face.

"W-well, um, don't take this the wrong way dad, but...I think maybe mom needs to pick better friends," Yunyun said, looking down and shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Eddard leaned back as though struck. "Yunyun, what are you saying?"

"Um, I don't know. But… I don't think Lord Baelish is a very good friend. When he touched me… dad, I don't like him."

"You… mislike Lord Baelish?" Eddard said, rocking back on his heels slightly.

"I'm sorry!" Yunyun gasped, waving her hands. "I know you probably like Lord Baelish, I'll try to be his friend, but-"

"No. I have never liked Petyr Baelish," Eddard said firmly. "If you do not wish to be around him, I shall leave orders that he is to be denied entry to the tower unless escorted by our men, and that shall not be allowed near you or your chambers."

"And Megumin too," Yunyun added quickly. "Or Myrcella."

"I… see. Very well. I'll talk to Jory," Eddard agreed. And made a mental note to speak to Ser Jamie as well.

"Thanks dad," Yunyun said, giving him a quick hug. "You're my best friend.

"Thank you. At least one of my daughters is every inch the lady," Eddard chuckled.

"You still like Megumin though, right?" Yunyun asked worriedly.

Eddard shook his head. "No. I love her, just as much as you, Yunyun. Each of you in your own special way."

"Oh good. I wasn't sure after you made her work in the stables again, but I trust you dad." Then Yunyun skipped off, her good mood restored.

Eddard eyed the book, then the list. He sighed. He would have to investigate the death of Jon Arryn, something about it still seemed wrong, and he needed to see to Robert's bastards.

But he would never trust another thing Littlefinger said.

* * *

If there was one thing that Jon Snow had not been prepared for when joining the Night's Watch, it was that he would be envied for his status. He hadn't realized that, as the bastard of a High Lord, he'd been given certain privileges and opportunities other boys his age were not afforded. True, he had been mistreated to a degree, and his life had not been simple nor easy, but in some ways, compared to the other youths who were training to join the watch, his life had been good.

Even compared to Jon's new companion, Samwell Tarly, he had been treated well. Samwell appeared to have been sent to the wall for no other reason than that his father wished for his younger brother to inherit, as Sam was a self described craven. Indeed, even Jon had little good to say about Sam's fighting ability, but he knew what it was to be treated as little better than refuse, and with his help Sam was slowly integrating into the group of trainees.

Though it was not easy, Jon was adapting to life on the wall, even if he was still concerned there had been no word of his Uncle Benjen, who had been missing for nearly two months now. More and more patrols were going missing, and Jon feared for his uncle, even as he refused to admit any possibility that he was truly dead.

And so, Jon lay in his cell, brooding and wondering what the next day would bring.

As it turned out, he was not ready for what came that night.

"Ah, young boy who ponders his parentage though he had a loving man who was happy to be his father, art thou well?"

Jon blinked at the strange voice, and sat up. He looked to Ghost, who was sitting up, head cocked to one side. "What is it, boy?"

Ghost glanced at Jon, then at the foot of his bed, then lay back down and put a paw over his face, as if embarrassed.

"Moi knows that you have heard quite clearly, boy who seeks brotherhood amongst the brotherless. Now, answer the query: Art thou well?"

Blinking, Jon looked at the foot of his bed, where a familiar shape sat.

"Vanir?" Jon asked slowly, wondering if he was going quite mad, or if he was merely having an incredibly odd dream.

The doll nodded, its oversized head cocking to one side. "Indeed, it is fortunate thou recognizes moi, or moi would have more concern about thy brain power than moi typically does for mortals of thy age. Though it seems that despite the fact that thou has graduated to monosyllables, thou art still unable to answer a simple question. Moi would inquire with thy brother wolf, but as moi has learned that one is quite incapable of speech."

Jon let out a yell and fell off his bed, hand scrambling for his sword.

"Hmm, as delicious thy despair is, moi was charged by thy sister to inquire as to thy health. Be at ease, child of twin legacies, for moi means thee no harm. Moi's mistress would be most cross if Moi caused her beloved 'brother' undue distress."

Panting, Jon pointed his sword at the talking doll. "K-Komekko. She..she sent you?"

"Indeed. Moi's mistress intended to visit thee in person, but it seems she is yet too young to be long separated from the woman who spawned her this cycle," Vanir sighed, which made Jon realize the doll was moving its mouth. Previously that had been a bit of string, hadn't it?

"She… she is well? My sister?"

"Hmm? Oh, moi is quite certain the mistress has recovered from her ordeal by now, yes. She was not given any permanent harm, moi saw to that. Now, since thou art in a more talkative mood, perhaps Moi's inquest may find an answer? Art thou hale?"

"I… I am well, yes," Jon said slowly, his sword trembling in his hands. "You… you can talk?"

The doll let out a heavy sigh. "Moi wonders how mortals manage not to simply forget to breathe at times, seeing as you lot cannot seem to grasp the most self-evident of ideas. Yes, O boy who others cannot see for what you are though you stand before them, moi is quite capable of speech."

"But… but you're not alive. Are you?" Jon demanded, slowly lowering the sword.

"Ah! Now, that is indeed a question moi has pondered before. You see, Moi's body is naught but earth, possessed by Moi's spirit, as Moi's true vessel yet lies deep within the fourth hell. So, Moi does not breathe, nor eat, nor sleep. And yet, Moi is by far more aware of Moi's surroundings, and a far sight more thoughtful than most mortals. So, what is it that makes one live? Be it a body that lives and breaths? Or capacity for thought?"

Jon Snow blinked. "What?"

The doll, somehow, rolled its eyes. "Moi thinks; therefore, moi lives."

"I have gone mad," Jon muttered, rubbing a hand through his dark hair. "Utterly mad. I'm talking to my sister's doll."

"Hmm? Oh, that." Suddenly, instead of a doll, a man sat cross legged on Jon's bed, a man who looked like, well, Vanir the Doll.

"What are you?" Jon whispered.

"Moi is thy sister's bonded familiar, her guardian and protector, and, if Moi dares to be forward, her friend. Though Moi is but a humble Duke of Hell, Moi has long known Komekko, and it amuses Moi to remain her companion."

"My sister...has a pet demon?" Jon asked slowly.

"Do not be absurd! Moi is not like thy mangy mute beast, Moi is a familiar, not a pet!"

Ghost sat up, then gave Jon an amused look.

"Ghost...isn't my pet. He's more like a brother, as much as Robb or a member of the Watch," Jon said quietly. Then he shook himself. "I've seen strange things since I came to the Wall, but never something like this. Did my sister really summon a demon from the seven hells just to torment me?"

"No, do not be absurd. She summoned me to fetch her a snack," Vanir huffed.

There had been a great many answers to the question of "why Vanir" but all things considered, Jon supposed that "because Komekko was hungry" made the most sense. "Aye. Well, you know I'm hale. What are you going to do now?"

"Moi shall depart," the demon declared, springing to his feet. "Moi seeks to reunite with an old friend; Wiz, the shopkeeper who becomes ever poorer the harder she works."

"A shopkeeper," Jon said dully.

"Indeed! Fare thee well, boy who is a friend of wolves and crows, yet a stranger to dragons. Moi shall inquire as to thy health when Moi passes through once more. Do try not to perish; it would upset the mistress greatly, and Moi has no ability to deal with weeping children."

And then, Vanir was a doll again, toddling out of Jon's cell and into the hall. He looked to Ghost. "Did that really just happen?"

Ghost, however, had gone back to sleep, being well familiar with strange visitors and odd happenings. Deciding that was probably wisest, Jon himself rolled over, and went back to sleep.

In the morning, Jon awoke, and decided that what he had witnessed was, in fact, a very strange dream. He was homesick, that was all. Thus, Jon rose, ate with Sam, Pyp, and Grenn, and then headed out towards the Haunted Forest. They spent the morning chopping wood for their fires, though they did so with several older brothers, armed with bows with dragonglass tipped arrows and armed with daggers of the same.

Already, Jon had seen one corpse put down and burned, its hand sent back with Lord Tyrion to beg for aid. The older men were talking: such things had not happened before, and many were deeply concerned. Benjen Stark was not the first ranger to go missing, only the last. They said the Old Bear was planning something, but what, Jon did not know.

On the way back inside, Jon noticed something queer in the sudge of ice and snow just past the gate. He bent down to retrieve it, and his heart skipped a beat. It was a black and white mask, like that Vanir had worn when he had taken the shape of a man. Hastily, Jon shoved the mask in his pack, and attempted to put it out of his mind.

That evening before bed, Jon took the mask out of his pack, eyeing it warily. On a whim, he took it out behind the tower and buried it, digging a shallow hole in the frozen earth. That done, he breathed a bit easier, and went back to his bed.

The next morning, he awoke to a doll at the foot of his bed. His scream brought three brothers running, all armed and looking for trouble.

"What is it, Snow?" one of them growled. "Did the Others make it beyond the wall?"

"Oh no, Moi is quite certain the barrier is intact," Vanir, who was still a doll, said. "No being of magic could pass beyond that barrier."

Jon looked at the brothers expectantly, but they didn't seem to hear Vanir speak. Instead one of him cocked his head. "What's this? Didn't take you for one to have a toy in his cell, Snow."

"Tell him I am from Wiz's shop," Vanir advised.

"...he's from Wiz's Shop?" Jon offered.

"Oh." The older man frowned. "Who told you of the Witch, Snow? You're not yet a sworn brother."

"Relax, the boy will be soon enough, and he's already seen the Other's handiwork. Let him keep his talisman. Mayhaps the Witch will return, and solve this bloody mess for us. What was the scream for though, Snow?"

"I...had a bad dream," Jon ventured. "My uncle, you see."

The older men's expressions softened, and they put away their weapons. "Aye. You're not the only one to get the screamers at times. You've seen them. Had nightmares for months the first time I saw the dead walk. Bloody well don't tell you that when you sign up, do they?"

Jon mutely shook his head, and the Black Brothers departed. Once they were well and truly gone, Jon slowly inched forward, examining the grinning doll. "Why… why did you return?"

"It seems the barrier keeps things both out, and in. Moi cannot traverse it alone," Vanir sighed. "To reach Wiz, moi shall require aid.

"I… see. And… will you not depart back to Winterfell then?" Jon asked hopefully, wondering if he truly had gone mad.

"Oh no, the Mistress wishes moi to find dear Wiz, and thus, moi shall do so. So, boy who dreams of a mother's touch, Moi shall stay with you, until an opportunity to venture forth arises."

"You want me to just… take you beyond the wall and bury you again?" Jon asked hopefully

"Oh no! Moi shall remain here. Before Moi's form disintegrated, Moi sensed a brooding power, one darker and more terrible than even a Duke of Hell. Thus; Moi shall fulfill the mistress's other charge, and keep her foolish brother safe from harm."

Jon nearly screamed again.

_Cast of Characters_

_Vanir as; -_ MOI IS NOT FINISHED!

_Lyrics by The Grand Cognator. Music by Alan Menken_

Jon looked around his cell. "Who are you talking to?"

"Moi addresses the choir invisible. Now, let us begin.

Vanir snapped his fingers, and Jon's cell seemed to grow in size to that of a great icy cavern. Dozens of Vanir dolls sprang out of the ground, Ghost transformed from a wolf into a boy with pointed ears, though he was still an albino.

"Music!" Vanir ordered, and instruments appeared in the hands of many of the dolls, and Ghost took out an odd, flute-like instrument. Jon tried to scramble away from the mad Duke of Hell, but Vanir grabbed Jon, and, as the band struck up a jazzy tune, he began to sing as he swing-danced with Jon.

_Well nasty Aegon had Balerion_

_Bran the Builder had his giants too_

_But, mortal, you're in luck! Because up Moi's sleeve,_

_Moi has a better option just for tou!_

Jon ducked and tried to escape Vanir as a giant black dragon swooped over head, and giants sprang up around. His struggles ceased with the dragon and giants put on atop hats, produced enormous canes, and began to tap dance to the beat. Vanir spun Jon about, dancing with his summoned apparitions.

_Thou has some power in thy corner now_

_And to get it thou but need'st to ask_

_Thou hast some punch, pizzaz, yahoo-and how,_

_And all thou has to do is find moi's mask_

Vanir vanished, leaving Jon holding only the demons mask in his hands. Vanir wasn't gone for long though, appearing behind Jon and shoving him into a chair as his mini clones trucked out a table. Ghost, in the form of the white haired and red eyed humanoid boy, appeared across from Jon, and passed him a menu.

And I'll say,

" _Monsieur Tar -NO NOT YET- come, wish 'pon une etoile_

_Let me take your order, jot it down?" You ain't ever had a friend like moi!_

_Life is thy restaurant, with limitless foie gras!_

_Come, whisper what it is thou want! You ain't never had a friend like moi!_

_Yes sir, Moi pride ourselves on service_

_Thou'rt the boss, the king, the shah!_

_Say what thou wish, 'tis yours! True dish!_

_How about a little more Baklava?_

Various dishes appeared before Jon at a snap from Vanir. He leaned forward to sniff one, a cake in the shape of Vanir's mask, only for the Duke of Hell to suddenly spring up out of the table, causing Jon to jerk back and fall out of his chair, only to be scooped up and dusted off by the little clones as Vanir stood on the table and serenaded Jon, offering a menu again.

_Have some of column "A,"_

_Skip "B" though, it's quite blah,_

_Moi's mood is to help thee, dude,_

_You ain't never had a friend Moi!_

_Can thy friends do this?_

_Do thy friends do that?_

_Do thy friends pull this out their little hat?_

Snapping his fingers, Vanir called into existence a gleaming suit of armor with a dire wolf on one breast, and oddly enough a dragon on another. It vanished before Jon could ponder this, replaced by a gaggle of giggling girls, who were swept away when Vanir whipped the table cloth off, covering them and making them vanish.

_Can thy friends go, poof?_

_Well, looky here!_

_Can thy friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip!_

_And then make the sucker disappear?_

The fallen tablecloth bulged, then sprang up and was tossed aside to reveal a snarling wildling warrior with dirty red braids and a scared face, only for Vanir to smack the apparition with a wooden mallet, making him groan comically and crash to the ground, vanishing in a puff of smoke.

_So don't sit there slack jawed, buggy eyed_

_Moi's here to answer all your foolish prayers._

_Thou got me bona fide, certified_

_Thou hast a Demon for your chare d'affaires!_

Vanir tossed aside the mallet, taking Jon by the hand and leading him and ghost, who was once more playing his strange instrument, up a flight of stairs to look down at the wild ruckus below them, full of playing clones, dancing giants, and the dragon spouting great gouts of flame in time to the music.

_Moi's got a powerful urge to help thee out_

_So what's thy wish? Truly Moi must know!_

_Thou hast a list that's three miles long, no doubt_

_Well, all thou need'st do is rub like so - and oh_

_Good Lord Comm- SPOILERS, FOOL! Make a wish, 'fore the Wall thaws!_

_Moi's on the job, thou big nabob_

_You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,_

_You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend,_

Vanir suddenly produced a top hat, shoving it on Jon's head, and dancing with him for a moment, before kicking him screaming off the top of the stairs and into darkness as Vanir continued to sing.

_You ain't never,_

_Had a,_

_Frieeeend_

_Liiiike_

_Moiiiiiiiiiiii!_

_You ain't never had a friend like moi, hah!_

With a jerk, Jon sat up in his bed, blinking. The cell was back to normal, and Vanir was a doll again, sitting lifelessly on the floor next to Ghost.

But next to Ghost, lay that same strange instrument, shaped a bit like a conch shell, colored blue, and with holes to play it, like a flute. In other lands, it would have been called an ocarina.

"I'm going mad," Jon whimpered, and curled up into a ball and tried to sleep.

… _well, OK then. That happened. And….Cast of Characters?_

_Jon Snow as; Knowing far too much. +5 Insight, -2 San_

_Ghost as; "…"_

_Yunyun as; Creeper detector_

_Petyr Baelish as; A really bad friend_

_Kazuma and Megumin as; in tsundere with each other_

_And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as failing a San check._


	14. Chapter 13: Chess, or Checkers? Or maybe Candyland?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr resorts to semaphore to try and get Eddard to realize what is going on, while Varys falls for the chunni bait. 
> 
> Oh, and there's some bed time story about the Kinslayer of Harrenhal. I'm sure he's not that scary or important.

_Sponsored by: Diplomacy. The game of political maneuvering, where the true currency is trust. Can you scheme your way to victory?_

_And by Who's Line is it Anyway, where the rules are made up and the points don't matter._

_Chapter 13: Chess, or Checkers? Or maybe Candyland?_

"Uncle Eddard, can we have a story?"

Eddard blinked, looking up from his reading of Maester Malleon's _The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms._ He found Myrcella and Tommen peering up at him expectantly. They'd been over for dinner with Kazuma, and apparently had stayed around. Eddard wasn't quite sure how the prince and princess had gotten into his chambers, until he looked and saw Yunyun smiling at him as well.

In truth, Eddard was grateful for an interruption, as Maester Malleon's ponderous tome seemed to be good for little more than putting him to sleep. What Jon Arryn had found compelling about the book, the new Hand was not sure, nor what value Littlefinger put in it. Perhaps the Master of Coin merely wished to lead Eddard on a wild goose chase.

"I don't think this is the sort of book you'd like a story from, your highnesses," Eddard chuckled, putting aside the book.

Myrcella wrinkled her nose. "You're not supposed to call me that. You can call me Cella, because we're friends. Yunyun said so."

Tommen nodded. "And I'm Tommy!"

Giving his eldest daughter a somewhat exasperated look, Eddard set the book aside. "Well, I suppose we do have time for a story. What sort of stories do you like, Cella and Tommy?"

"Scary stories!" the princess giggled eagerly. "Yunyun says you know lots of good scary stories!"

Tommen looked nervous, but swallowed and nodded.

"I suppose I could manage to think of a frightening story," Eddard agreed, and Yunyun eagerly sat down on the floor with her royal friends. Myrcella plopped herself in Eddard's lap, a habit she was rapidly developing, while Tommen sat on Yunyun's lap. The princess looked eager, while her brother looked like he was trying to be brave. Still, Eddard thought it good for children to hear frightening tales, especially true ones.

"Have you heard the tale of the Kinslayer?" Eddard asked.

"Oh, that's a good one. It was Megumin's favorite," Yunyun commented, and the younger children shook their heads.

"Long ago, before the Seven Kingdoms were one, but long after the Andals came across the Narrow Sea, the Doom came upon Valeria."

The children let out a startled gasp, and Tommen stuck his hand in his mouth, before quickly withdrawing it.

"During that time, a summer came that did not end," Eddard continued. "At first, this was a good thing. For who does not love summer? Crops grew, and the people grew fat off the land. At that time, the Stark in Winterfell was King in the North, and he and his people rejoiced at the Long Summer, for the North is a hard, cold land. He was Benjen the Bold, and he was a wise, good king."

"Our story, however, does not start with King Benjen Stark, but to the south, in the Kingdom of the Trident. It was ruled by a House long gone, a house whose name we do not speak; for it is cursed. Indeed, so accursed is the name, that we do not say it, only write it. I shall do so now, but do not say it aloud."

With a flourish, Eddard took out pen and ink, and wrote the name upon a piece of parchment. He showed it to the children, who gasped and nodded appropriately, though Eddard could see Tommen's lips moving as he sounded it out. That should be fine, as they were far south. And besides, the Kinslayer and his house were long dead.

"In that kingdom ruled another wise and good king. His name was Terenas, the second of his name. At first, King Terenas and the other rules of the lands believed the endless summer was nothing but good. But then, the rivers began to dry up, and the crops withered and died, as no new snows fell. It became hotter and hotter, and men began to suffer."

"It was at that time that the king's son, a noble and handsome prince, who was a leader of the Faith Militant, prayed to the goddesses. And, as they always do in the time of men's need, the Seven Goddesses answered. Aqua, the Goddess of Water, took pity on her followers and a

appeared to the Prince."

"What was his name?" Myrcella asked, looking up at Eddard with big, excited eyes.

"It is cursed: We do not speak it," Eddard told her sternly. "I will not even write it down. It is too dangerous. Truth be told, I do not recall it. Only maesters and septons know this name, and few dare write or utter it, for to speak the name is to draw its owner's attention."

The princess nodded solemnly, and Eddard continued. "Aqua told the Prince that the Doom was a curse from the terrible Lord of Light, known as the Laughing God. His followers had asked for an endless summer, to drive away darkness and despair, and he had given it to them. However, as are all gifts of the Lord of Light, this one was cursed."

"It had destroyed the Valarians who had requested it, and now, Summer would not end. Thus, Aqua told the Prince to go to the Lands of Always Winter, far to the north, beyond the wall. There, he would find the Others, called the White Walkers."

Even Yunyun sucked in her breath at that.

"The Others are real?" Tommen whispered, trembling slightly.

Gravely, Eddard nodded. "All too real. Aqua, in her haste to save her people, sent the Prince on his mission: to find a bit of winter, and bring it back to the lands. Not too much, or it would cause another Long Night. But enough that Summer would end, and the snows would bring rest and refreshment to the lands."

"The Prince departed, and had many adventures. Along the way, he met Benjen the Bold, and the King of the North joined the Prince in his quest. Together with several brave companions, they passed the Wall, into the lands of the Wildlings. Against all odds, Benjen the Bold and the Prince arrived in the Lands of Always Winter. There, they found where the gods had imprisoned the Night's King, within an icy, frozen throne. There was nothing left of him, save his bones, and his cursed armor, which sat in a never melting block of ice."

"What was said there is not known: only The Prince returned, bearing a hungering blade of ice, forged by the Others. It is said, however, that the Night's King required a sacrifice; that of the Prince's friend, Benjen the Bold."

Tears filled Yunyun's eyes as they always did at this part in the story, and the other children sniffled as well.

"But...but why'd he kill his friend?" Myrcella whimpered, pressing herself tightly to Eddard.

"Perhaps he thought it was necessary for his honor. Mayhaps, he believed it was his duty. Or perhaps there was some evil in the Prince's heart, though all said until that day he was a good man, noble and true. I do not know. What I do know is this: the prince brought that bit of winter back to the lands of men."

"What was the sword called?" Tommen asked.

"We don't speak its name," Yunyun hushed. "It's an evil, cursed sword, a runeblade of the Others."

Tommen made an "O" with his mouth and nodded seriously.

"The Prince went south, then crossed the Narrow Sea to where the Doom lay upon Valeria. There, he battled the servants of Kefka, another name for the Lord of Light, and laid them low. When he destroyed the last of the Lord of Light's priests, summer broke. The next day, snow began to fall again, and men rejoiced at the coming of winter for the first time."

"The Prince returned in triumph to his father's kingdoms, where Terenas welcomed his son. There was a grand procession, and though it was winter, men and women lined the streets, hailing their Prince, who had saved them from the endless summer."

"I shall tell you the name of the city and keep, for it still stands now, abandoned. No man walks its streets, and only the dead dwell there: Harrenhal."

"No," Tommen whimpered, and Myrcella let out a soft moan of fear.

"Should I stop?" Eddard asked, as he had a hundred times before.

"No!" the children replied, as they always did.

"Then, Harrenhal was a great castle; the greatest in the Seven Kingdoms. It was a place of beauty, with gardens watered by the rivers, and tall towers of white marble that shone in the daylight. As the snow fell, the Prince entered the castle, where his father awaited. King Terenas arose from his seat to embrace his son. But he was met with steel."

"The Prince drove his runeblade through his father's heart, slaying him. The people screamed in panic, and many brave knights attempted to slay the Prince. All of them were laid low. Many tried to feel the city. Few did. Ice had frozen the gates shut, and snow blocked the roads. Death stalked the streets that night, some even say that the Others came south for one night, slaying the living with their icy touch."

"The next day, not a living soul remained in Harrenhal. But an army marched forth: an Army of the Damned, led by the Kinslayer. They headed north, marching over frozen rivers, slaying all who stood before them. Some survived in holdfasts and keeps, but many perished, only to rise again at the command of the Kinslayer."

"The army of the damned headed north, and Torrhen, Son of Benjen the Bold, feared his kingdom was lost, and perhaps, all of Westeros, for the Kinslayer marched upon the Wall, which he would tear down from behind, and allow the Others to sweep down across all of Westeros."

"But, but they stopped him, right?" Tommen asked, sounding terrified.

Eddard smiled. "That was when Torrhen called for aid. No man in the seven kingdoms responded to him, for the Kinslayers dark hordes of undeath were a scourge upon the entire land"

"But the Goddesses, old and new, heard Torrhen. And they sent help: three dragons, and their riders. The last of the Valaryians."

"Aegon!" Tommen gasped.

Myrcalla nodded eagerly. "And his sisters! Visenya, and Rhaenys!"

"Yes. When they arrived, Torrhen bent the knee, swearing fealty to Aegon as his liege lord. And thus, Aegon and his dragons swept down upon the Kinslayer and his army of the damned as they besieged Castle Black and the Night's Watch. The battle was fierce, but with the aid of the Starks and the Lords of the North, Aegon defeated the Kinslayer. He was slain, and his body and broken blade taken beyond the wall, where it was given over to the Witch of the North."

"And then all the Seven Kingdoms bent the knee to Aegon, 'cause he saved the world!" Tommen blurted.

Eddard laughed. "Yes, indeed. But, they say in Winterfell, on a cold night, you can still hear the whisper of the Kinslayer: that one day, all must serve the new Night's King, and Lord of Winter."

The children squealed in mock fright, and Eddard laughed and stood. "Come. It's time to take you to bed. It is late, and I am certain your lady mother is wondering where you are."

Eddard escorted the tried children to their chambers, and ended up carrying a snoring Tommen the last little distance as Yunyun led a nearly asleep Myrcella the last little way.

"There you are," Cersei Lannister said, appearing around a corner with her ladies in waiting. "I had thought you would have returned for your dinner with Lord Stark and his children some time ago."

"He told us a scary story, mommy," Myrcella yawned. "It was good. He told us about the Kinslayer."

Cersei glanced at Eddard, raising an eyebrow.

"A favorite of Megumin's," he supplied, and Cersei shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips.

"That one would be," Cersei said, taking Tommen from Eddard's arms. He stirred, but sighed happily as he nestled himself on his mother's shoulder. "You seem fond of children. I hear that Theon Greyjoy has said he sees you as dearer than his own father."

"I raised Theon from when he was but a lad of ten," Eddard replied. "While I am not his father, nor he my son, I do love him."

"Was he not to be a hostage? Insurance against Balon's good behavior?" Cersei asked. "Oh, here. Rain, take the children. I would speak with Lord Stark."

"Yes, m'lady," Rain Lannister, Cersei's younger cousin and new lady in waiting agreed, taking Tommen and the princess, and going into their chambers.

Cersei watched them go, smiling slightly. Then she turned to Eddard. "Would you put a child you raised to the sword, Lord Stark? I heard you counseled against the killing even of Iris Targaryen."

"That was before she put a thousand dothraki to the sword and acquired three dragons. She is a child no longer," Eddard said grimly.

"And what of Theon Greyjoy? He is a man grown now. No boy."

For a long moment, Eddard thought, not speaking. Finally, he spoke. "Were Theon to rebel against Robert, and with his father make war upon those he once called friends, aye. I would kill him. But, I would do the same even to my own son. I would sooner die myself, but to break all oaths and forsake one's own honor...it would have to be done."

Cersei's face was a blank mask. "You would kill even Robb if your honor demanded it?"

Again, Eddard hesitated, then, he lowered his voice. "No. I would fight Robb, yes. I would try to convince him to lay down his arms and regain his honor. But if it was my life or his on the field of battle… I would perish."

"And the Greyjoy boy?"

"I do not know. It is...a hard question. One I hope I never have to answer," Eddard replied.

"I see." Cersei was quiet for a moment, then put a hand on Eddard's arm. "I too love my children, Lord Stark. And I am growing fond of yours. I hope you love them as much as you do Theon Greyjoy."

With that, she turned and departed, leaving Eddard feeling slightly confused. Did Cersei think him a threat to her babes? He would sooner cut off his own hand than harm Myrcella or Tommen, and Kazuma was to be his son in truth. More and more, Eddard did think of the boy as his son, even if the wedding was years in the future yet.

It was a week before the tourney, and Eddard went with Robb and Lord Baelish to a blacksmith the next day. Despite his misgivings, Eddard had given Robb leave to participate in the tourney. While he did not approve of playing at war, Megumin's enthusiasm for the event seemed to have infected his eldest son, which meant that Robb was to participate in the joust. Naturally, that meant he needed a new set of armor, and Littlefinger had been happy to recommend a suitable shop.

Arriving at the Smithy, Eddard had to admit it had the look of a master artisans show. It was finely decorated on the outside, and large enough to house several forges with at least a dozen journeymen and twice as many apprentice boys laboring at the forges.

"Ah, m'lord Hand! Your son's armor, it is ready," Tobho Mott, the master smith said, meeting them at the door. "Come. We must do the last of the fitting. A fine piece, with a wolfshead helm, as you requested."

Robb flushed, not meeting his fathers eyes. That had not been the original order, but Eddard had a sneaking suspicion Robb had told Megumin, who had insisted on some eclectic modifications.

"Master Mott does good work, I've had several pieces made here myself," Baelish said, picking up a fine silver inlaid dagger from a rack and inspecting it.

"I appreciate the recommendation," Eddard said, trying to remain polite. He'd been initially inclined to refuse Littlefinger's aid and advice, but Jamie Lannister had told Eddard he thought Mott the best smith in the city as well, and so Eddard had acceded.

"There is one other aspect of the shop I thought you should know of. Come," Littlefinger said, and led Eddard inside, to where the sweltering heat of the forges was nearly overwhelming.

"Ah, you there, boy. Come here a moment. You are the one who made young Stark's helm, are you not?" Baelish said to one of the journeymen.

For a moment, Eddard was taken back in time, and though he was looking at a young Robert as the smith bowed to him

"It's good work, m'lord. I know I'm just a journeyman, but I'll be a master one day. My work is good, best in the shop save for Master Mott's."

"I am certain it will suffice," Eddard agreed, and Littlefinger let the boy go back to his work.

They withdrew back to the cooler entrance, and Baelish gave Eddard a small knowing smile. "So, what do you think?"

Eddard was quiet, trying to see the trap in Baelish's words, but not finding one. "He is Robert's?"

"His byblow on a tavern wench. Lord Arryn got the boy his apprenticeship when he was six," Baelish informed. "Thought you ought to know. He is the very image of his Grace, is he not?"

"Aye," Eddard agreed. He considered for a moment, then nodded his thanks to Baelish. "Thank you. It is good the boy is cared for. He seems skilled."

"Oh he is. A most talented man with a hammer, like his father. I imagine his hands would find a sword as comfortable as those tongs he bears now," Baelish chuckled. "He even has Robert's foul moods."

Eddard nodded, feeling uncomfortable discussing such a topic, but Baelish continued.

"Indeed, I've found all of Robert's bastards share some aspects of him, though they all have that Baratheon look about them. It is as Lord Arryn said. 'The Seed is strong.'"

"Indeed. Prince Kazuma is much like his father," Eddard agreed, eager to change the topic.

Baelish looked at Eddard incredulously for a moment, then laughed. "Is he? The boy looks more like a Lannister than a Baratheon to me."

"You haven't seen the mischief he gets up to. He's the very picture of Robert at that age," Eddard sighed, thinking back to a time when a young Robert had been the scourge of the Eyrie. Much like Kazuma, he'd been a constant source of headaches for his caretakers, always running off on an adventure. Though Eddard would see to it that the prince did not get a bastard on a girl at the tender age of fifteen as his father had. Eddard did try not to think about what the Prince and Megumin might do in a few years, but at least they were betrothed.

"Perhaps now, but he was quite the scholar and recluse before he went North. Many remarked that he seemed more like Tyrion Lannister than his own father," Baelish mused.

"Is it a wonder? Robert showed little love for the boy, whereas Tyrion gave him nothing but affection. That is changing, now that he is older and taking up the sword. Robert has come several times now to see his son practice in the yard."

Indeed, despite initially being skeptical of the Water Dancer's way, Robert was delighted to see Kazuma best other boys in the yard. Even Robb had lost to Kazuma in a duel, prompting Robert to gloat about which of their sons was the better. Both Robb and Eddard had taken it in good humor, and Kazuma had even apologized for his father's words in private later. He was a good lad, and would make a fine king.

Lost in his own thoughts, Eddard once more missed the increasingly exasperated looks from Baelish. The problem, you see, with playing 4D chess, is that one tends to assume that everyone else is at least playing 2D chess, and thus are competent schemers. Lord Baelish was realizing he had somewhat overestimated Eddard Stark, and was taking increasingly drastic measures. Still, he could account for Eddard Stark, who while not a master manipulator, was at least politically savvy in his own way.

What Baelish was not prepared for was the fact that some people were not playing chess at all, but perhaps checkers, or maybe Go Fish. Or, in some particularly egregious cases, Calvinball, which had no rules to bend and twist, and no moves to think ahead for.

Speaking of lunatics who couldn't plot their way out of a Walmart parking lot (and had failed to do so at several points in past lives) Megumin was currently stalking the depths of the Red Keep along with Chomusuke. Kazuma was practicing his archery for the tourney, and that had gotten boring after about five minutes and Megumin had snuck away. Currently, she was posing before some dragon bones, and doing something so foolish that it had several goddesses in a panic, frantically messaging Cecily to do something before Megumin blew everyone up (again).

"Black of my soul, arise! Hmm. No. What about… Deep back of the void, come forth! Yes, that one is good. Ok. Next part. Crimson of my soul, arise! Eh, too similar. Crimson of ancient blood, I call upon thee! Better, better…"

Despite the fact that she was currently both indoors and underground, Megumin was practicing Explosion chants. Chomuskue was watching her mistress, looking about half a step from a panic attack herself, which was pretty impressive for a direwolf. Even a variably sized one.

Suddenly, Chomusuke's ears cocked to one side, and she leapt forward, tackling her mistress to the ground, then grabbing her by the cape and dragging her back behind some of the dragon bones.

"Ow! Chomusuke, what was that for?!" Megumin demanded, until her wolf put a large paw over her mouth and let out a low, soft growl. Megumin froze, and Chomusuke let her up to crouch behind the dragon bones.

From further within the maze of passages under the Red Keep, a red glow of torchlight appeared, and the tread of soft-soled boots on stone could be heard. Soon, a shadowed figure of a man with a steel cap, with leather armor and a sword and dirk at his hip. Chomusuke breathed out a sigh of relief as the man started to go past without noticing their hiding place.

Megumin, of course, could not allow this.

"HALT, O DISGUISED ONE!" Megumin shouted, and jumped out in front of the stranger, her sword held in a high guard position.

The man let out a coarse oath and took a stumbling step back, hand going to the hilt of his sword.

"Behold! I am Megumin! Foremost Genius of the House of Stark! What are you doing here, villain? Plotting to dark webs to deliver the kingdom into the hands of its enemies?!"

"You brat," the man snarled in a gravely tone. He had his sword half way out of the scabbard before he saw two glowing eyes, hovering a foot above Megumin's head. He raised his torch, and the blood drained from his unshaved face, as he beheld a wolf that should have been too large to make its way to the chamber, her lips bared in snarl. Swallowing, the man managed. "I'm just Rugen, m'lady. A humble gaoler. Goin' about me rounds."

"You think to fool me?! I can see through your cunning disguise! You are a spider, spinning webs of lies to entrap noble heroes!" Megumin hissed, taking a step forward and making Rugen fall back.

"Don't know nuthin' about what m'lady is-"

"I see it now! You seek to resurrect the bones of dragons thought long dead! You would bring fire and destruction down upon this keep and kingdom! Well, I, Megumin, Leader of the Crimson Demon Clan of Adventurers, shall not allow it! I shall fight for my one true love, Prince Kazuma, and prevail against your wicked plans!"

Rugen was sweating now, his hands trembling as he looked back and forth between this tiny madwoman and the giant wolf, unable to decide which was more frightening. His worries were interrupted when a frantic septa tumbled down the stairs and grabbed the girl, hissing something about ill behavior. Clearly, her entrance had been planned all along.

"Watch yourself, you traitorous wretch. I shall uncover your plots, and bare your lies for all to see!" Megumin snarled as she was dragged away by her supposed caretaker. A moment later, after one final low growl, Chomusuke followed after, shrinking down to the size of a hound as she went.

For a moment, Rugen the turn key stood there. Then, swiftly, he hurried away, and as he went, the facade of the dim and gruff jailer vanished just as the man entered into a hidden passageway. In his place was a very frightened Lord Varys.

"She knows," the Master of Whispers muttered to himself as he sagged against the wall. "How does the girl know!? Her father appears ignorant, unaware of the seeds that I have long planted! But then… she must be the one. The one who somehow quelled the feud between Wolf and Lion. How? How!? For decades I nurtured their hates. When Robert accepted my suggestion to make Eddard his Hand I thought the plan had nearly reached fruition! But it was her! Megumin was the one who sussed out my plots, and stopped them! But how?"

Varys hurried back to his chambers through the hidden doors and ways of the Red Keep, his mind racing. So, it was all an act: the girl really WAS the Foremost Genius of the House of Stark, her behavior an act to fool onlookers into believing her naught but a mad girl. But she had ensnared the Prince, and through him had the Lannisters wrapped around her little finger. It all made sense now.

After ensuring he was alone, Varys took out several hidden journals, hastily scratching out plans and revising them. There was a new player on the board now. But why had she revealed herself? What did she stand to gain from this? Varys began to adapt his plots. He would have to move up his timetable. The girl would have to be eliminated before she caused further problems. Yes… yes, he could have her killed, and frame the Lannisters for such an act. It would be a challenge, but Cersei suspected that Eddard was close to learning her secret. She would make a good scapegoat.

And so, the Spider began to spin new webs to entrap his foes in, as he plotted to place a false dragon upon the throne of the seven kingdoms, and at last bring to fruition the plot to destroy the magic of the world forever, freeing the land from goddesses and demons alike. He had simply to account for the devilish schemes of Megumin Stark.

Varys, however, forgot to account for one thing in his schemes:

You can't out plan an idiot.

_Cast of Characters_

_The Prince of Harrenhal as; The Great Other_

_Tommen and Myrcella as; Exploiting the power of moe_

_Varys the Spider as; All According to Keikaku (Translator's Note: Keikaku is weeb for plan)_

_Petyr Baelish as; Master of 4D Chess_

_Eddard Stark as; Big fan of Checkers_

_Megumin as; Archwizard of Calvinball_

_Chomusuke as; The Cloud Cuckoolander's Minder_

_And the cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as; Overthinking This._


	15. HMS Ironborn the Musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn how to become the ruler of the Greyjoy Fleet.

_ Written and Directed by: Full-Paragon _

_   
_ _ Music and Production by: The Grand Cogitator  _

_ This episode is dedicated to my favorite musical, the Pirates of Penzance. I watch it orphan. As in frequently.  _

_ Chapter 14: HMS Ironborn the Musical _

Laughing, Theon Greyjoy strode through one of the seedier parts of King’s Landing near the River Gate docks. He was with a group of other young noblemen from the court, having fallen right in with their carousing. Indeed, at this very moment they were making their way down to one of the many brothels located near the docks, though they were headed for one of the finer establishments instead of one of the dockside places frequented by sailors. 

While Theon felt a bit guilty due to the disapproving looks he’d received from Lord Stark, it wasn’t enough to prevent him from continuing his lecherous ways. He still ensured he did his duties, of which he had more than a few as Ward of the Hand of the King, but once his work was done, why not enjoy life a little? 

While his companions were all nobly born, Theon enjoyed a place of prestige in the group both due to his connection to the Hand and from being a Greyjoy; eldest son and heir of Pyke and the Iron Islands. True, Theon hadn’t set foot on his home islands in nine years since he was a boy of ten, but he still thought of himself as Ironborn. Besides, he was good with a sword, and excellent with a bow, and being a warrior was the first part of being Ironborn in Theon’s mind. 

“Ladies, I have come once more to bless you with my presence!” Theon called, striding into the brothel. He had been frequenting the establishment for some weeks now, and had his favorites, and flattered himself that they enjoyed his affections as much as his coin.

This day, however, a new girl caught his eye. She was tall, with short black hair that was bleached blonde at the tips, and a full figure. She was dressed oddly, in tight fitting breeches and a loose white shirt. The novelty of her appearance intrigued Theon, and he grinned, walking over to her. “What’s this, a pretty face I’ve not seen before, nor blessed with my affections? We’ll have to rectify this.”

Slowly, the woman turned to Theon, having been talking to the Madam of the Brothel, a thin, tight lipped woman who nevertheless seemed to have the best selection of girls at the docks. “That is a crude thing to say, sir. Who, exactly, are you, to address me as such?”

“Why, I’m Theon Greyjoy, the Kraken of the North!” Theon quipped, making his companions laugh. “Who might you be? Someone looking for me to bless with my purse and cock?’

The woman turned to Madam Gretty, who seemed to be fighting back laughter. “This is him?”

“Aye, that’s m’lord Greyjoy,” Madam Gretty agreed, giving Theon a gap toothed grin.

“He thinks rather highly of himself, doesn’t he?” the woman said cooly, then turned back to Theon, frowning. “How disappointing. It seems you’re more the Stark then the Greyjoy now.”

That remark made Theon bristle as his companions chuckled behind him. “My blood is salt and iron, girl. Careful with that tongue, or I shall cut it out instead of letting you use it as a whore should.”

“I’d like to see you try,” the girl said, and pulled a dirk from the small of her back. She made a “come on” gesture to Theon, standing with one arm behind her back, her dirk raised in a duelist’s stance. 

Snarling, Theon tugged his sword from its scabbard. “I won’t kill you, girl, but I’ll make you regret this.”

“We shall see. Have at thee,” the girl said, and lunged. Theon countered, but soon found himself on the back foot, pressed hard by the girl despite her weapons' short reach. She was tall, nearly as tall as he, and had long legs and arms. She also seemed to move faster than the eye could see, and despite fighting as hard as he could, Theon couldn’t keep her off of him. 

Soon, Theon found himself pressed out the door and into the alleyway, his sword ringing fast and hard against the dirk, which seemed to be everywhere and ever closer to his flesh. Then, Theon slipped in a puddle of mud, and though he did not fall, his footing was unsteady for a moment. The next thing he knew, his hand stung and his sword was on the ground, the dirk pressed up against his throat. 

“I would have thought Eddard Stark would have at least taught you proper manners and discipline, Theon. Instead, you are nothing but a perverted layabout who spends his days whoring and dicing. Our father would be most disappointed to find his son had become nothing but a worthless NEET.”

For a moment, Theon gaped silently, then managed a weak, “Claire?”

His sister sighed and stepped back, making the dirk vanish again. “I had high hopes that you would have more iron in your spine, Theon. Instead, I find a man who wastes his days fawning at the heels of Starks and Lannisters.”

“I am no dog of the greenlanders,” Theon snapped. “I am Ironborn as much as you! I’ve been left to rot for nine years, with no kith nor kin save the Starks! If I value them and their company, well, it’s because they value me!”

“Do they? Are you so fond of Eddard Stark, the man who killed our brothers?” Claire demanded. 

  
“Our father killed our brothers with his senseless pride,” Theon snapped, forcing himself to stand straight and tell, despite his anger. “Lord Stark killed neither Rodrik nor Maron. Besides, Rodrik was a drunk, and Maron was a liar and a bully. In comparison, I’ve known naught but kindness from Robb, who treats me as well as his own siblings.”

  
In private, Theon often dreamed of marrying Yunyun, though she was six years his junior, and becoming Lord Stark’s son in truth. A part of him was ashamed of that, especially now, but the other half of him longed for the approval of the man who had been his father in more ways than Balon Greyjoy ever had.

  
Claire studied Theon’s face, then, to his surprise, she smiled. “So you do have iron in your spine. That is good. You also seem to have an understanding of duty, even if it is misplaced.”

“You are not...that is, you understand?” Theon asked his older sister, feeling baffled. He hadn’t seen Claire since he’d left for Winterfell almost a decade ago, and she’d been a gangly girl of fourteen then.

“I have my own differences with our father. His loyalties are...misplaced, as are yours,” Claire said coldly. Then she sighed. “But, you are my brother. I suppose it is understandable we have drifted apart over the years and distance.”

“I...suppose it is,” Theon said, feeling unsure of what to do next. 

“Well, come on then,” Claire said, slapping Theon on the back. “I cannot truly blame you for enjoying the same pleasures I do.” With that, Claire turned back to the brothel, walking quickly back inside. 

  
Hurriedly, Theon picked up his sword, then hurried back inside. His former companions had vanished, apparently not eager to get caught up in the sibling’s feud. 

“Which of the girls do you like then?” Claire asked as Theon hurried in. “I’ve a fondness for blondes myself.”

“You...what?” Theon asked, blinking stupidly. 

“I prefer blondes, but I’ll tumble any girl if she’s shapely in a pinch,” Claire said with a shrug. “It gets lonely out at sea, especially with naught but men aboard.”

“What about salt wives?” Theon blurted, thinking back to his boyhood.

Claire’s nose wrinkled. “A disgusting practice of a bygone era that has long overstayed its welcome. By the Treaty of Rivers and Isles of 2CE, slavery is forbidden in the Iron Islands, as they are rightfully a vassel of the Iron Throne.”

  
“You always were fussy about the rules. But salt wives and thralls were never considered slaves; the Ironborn have ever kept them,” Theon argued. 

“Such is a practice that violates the spirit of the law, if not the letter. A true officer and lady understands that regulations are not to be followed to the letter, but to be obeyed in their original intent,” Claire stated in a tone that brooked no argument. 

  
Thus, Theon changed tactics. “Well, I don’t know that this establishment offers boys, and I’m not certain I wish to discuss such things with my own sister.”

“I’m not interested in boys,” Claire said dismissively. She turned to Madam Gretty. “Bring me a few blondes to pick over. I’m in the mood for one with large breasts. What are you having, Theon?”

“I...I don’t think I’m in the mood for a girl,” Theon said faintly, and for the first time since he’d tumbled the brews wife three years ago, he actually wasn’t.

“Oh? Well. I suppose I can wait then. It has been a while since I’ve seen my brother.” Claire took out a silver coin and tossed it Gretty. “For your troubles.” Then she picked up a heavy overcoat with golden buttons down the sides, putting it on, then setting an odd cap with a long, pointed brim to two sides, the front and back folded up under her arm, and buckling on a long curved blade. 

“Well, let us be off then. I suppose I should make my introductions at the palace. Come. You may escort me,” Claire satiated, and strode out of the brothel, putting on her hat once she was out of doors. She whistled, and three men in sailor's garb of canvas trousers and sail cloth shirts stood up from a dicing game, picking up weapons and falling in behind her.

Theon hurried after her, his long strides able to match hers, as he was only a bare inch taller than his sister. “Claire, I suppose it’s good to see my sister after so many years, but what are you doing here?” 

“I received word of the Hand’s Tourney, and, upon consulting with the Crawling One, arrived to attend the festivities. We made port late this afternoon,” Claire stated crisply. 

“You intend to participate?” Theon asked incredulously. The Ironborn were not famous for their record in tourneys, as few were held in the Iron Islands, and they never had many knights, nor much interest in tournaments that were a part of the Andal tradition and associated with the Seven Goddesses. 

“Do not be absurd. I make war, Theon. I do not play at it,” Claire replied. 

“You sound like Lord Eddard,” Theon muttered. 

  
“As he is a man of honor, I shall take that as a compliment,” Claire laughed. She gave the startled Theon an amused smile. “Oh do relax, little brother. While I consider the Starks to be my foes, I also consider them to be noble ones.”

“I thought you said you served the Iron Throne?” Theon asked suspiciously. 

“I do. As is my duty as an officer and noble,” Claire said grimly. “Come. I shall expect you to make introductions for me.”

Flustered, Theon took Claire to the Tower of the Hand, as he had no idea where Robert was, and Theon knew that bothering the king was most unwise. The Stark guards were a bit surprised to see Theon with a woman in a very strange uniform and three armed sailors, but Claire had her men stay in the courtyard, and followed Theon to Lord Stark’s study. 

“Lord Eddard?” Theon called, sticking his head into the room. 

“Yes? What is it, Theon?” Eddard replied, looking up from a large, dusty tome Theon had seen him browsing of late. 

“My lord, I have the honor of presenting my sister, Lady Claire Greyjoy.”

  
“Captain Claire Greyjoy,” his sister said punctiliously. She bowed instead of curtsying, sticking her odd hat under one arm, one hand on her sword hilt. “Of the  _ Indefatigable _ .” 

Lord Stark stood, returning the bow slightly. “A pleasure, ah, Captain Greyjoy. I had not expected your presence.”

“I had only just arrived, and found my brother waiting for me, right where the Crawling One directed my steps,” Claire said with a shrug. “I regret there was no time to send a runner to announce my arrival.”

  
“I’d had word of a strange ship arriving in the harbor. I take it she is yours?” Lord Stark asked.

“If she is a three masted vessel, armed with fourteen scorpions below, and two mangonel’s above, 156 feet beam to beam and a draft of nineteen feet, that would be my vessel,” Claire answered formally. 

“I believe that does fit the description. She is the famous flagship of Lord Greyjoy then?” Lord Stark asked. 

Claire shrugged. “I cannot speak to my vessel's fame here in King’s Landing, having not frequented this port, but she has been in service these past five years. Her sister ship, the  _ Victory  _ is to be launched in a months time, as per my report to the crown.”

“I am afraid I did not receive such a report; I have only just begun my duties as Hand, and have much of Lord Arryn’s documents to look over still. Will you join us for dinner, Lady Claire? I am certain Theon would be gladdened to see his kin again, and I would be interested to hear your reports myself.”

“Very well. I shall be happy to dine with you, my lord. Can you see to my men? Three of them wait outside, and I would have them fed.”

  
“Of course, I can see to it that food and lodging are found for them,” Eddard offered.

  
“I appreciate the offer of lodging, but my men and I shall be staying aboard ship, save those on shore leave. We are here only for the Tourney.” 

“Very well. Tommard?”

“Yes, Lord Stark?” the guard said, stepping into the room.

“Show Captain Greyjoy to a room where she may refresh herself before dinner. Theon? A moment, if you would.” 

Nervously, Theon tried to give Lord Stark a smile as Claire was shown from the room. Once she had gone, Eddard motioned him to a seat, sighing heavily. 

“I suppose it’s past time you and I talked about your status, Theon,” Eddard said quietly. “You know that you are my ward, and that though you are a man grown, you have not been allowed to leave my household.”

Theon’s mouth felt dry, and he tried to swallow. His voice came out as a rasp. “I’m a hostage. Against my father’s good behavior. To prevent another rebellion from the Ironborn.”

“That is true, to a degree. I have done my best to show you how to be a man, Theon, to raise you as one of my own children. I know it cannot have been a happy or easy life, to be away from kith and kin, a prisoner in all but name.”

“I...in some ways, yes, Lord Stark. But in others…” Theon managed to swallow, but he couldn’t meet Eddard’s eyes. “In some ways, my time in Winterfell was happier than when I lived in my father’s own keep. Your children are more like siblings to me than my own blood. And you...Lord Stark...you were ever kinder to me than my own lord father ever was. Perhaps now that I am his heir that would change, but…”

Eddard was silent, and Theon wrestled with what to say, finally, he managed. “I know you’d kill me, should my father rebel again. That would be what your duty would demand. But...but I hope it never comes to that.”

“You think me so callous, Theon?” Eddard asked softly. “That I would kill a boy who ate at my table, who is friend to my children, and who lived under my protection for most of his life?”

Now Theon met Eddard’s eyes, but his were wide and started. “But, that is why I am your ward, is it not? The King, he would require it.”

“If Robert wants you dead, he’ll have to do it by his own hand, and after he’s wrested you from me by force,” Eddard said grimly. “Iris Targaryen is one thing. She possesses dragons, and seems as mad as her father, has already proven her ability to make war, and is an avowed enemy of his Grace and myself. But you, Theon? Would you have your father rebel?”

“No. I thought it was grand and good that he declared himself king, but it brought only suffering to our people. He was a fool,” Theon said bitterly. 

“Then I would not hold you at fault. I would kill your father if he rises again, not you. Indeed, with Balon dead, I would see you installed as Lord of Pyke in his stead.”

“What? But if he rises-”

“If he rises again, as you said: He is a fool. I do not think it likely, however. My plan, Theon, was simple. To win you over not by steel, but as Yunyun does.”

Theon blinked rapidly. “As Yunyun does? You mean… as a friend?”

“Who do you love best, Theon? Who is your closest companion?” Eddard asked. 

“Why...Robb. We’ve grown apart here in King's Landing, he doesn’t-” Theon flushed, but forced himself to say, “He doesn’t go whoring.”

“You are a man grown. If you wish to visit a brothel, that is your own concern. The coin you earn is from your work as my squire. If you wish to waste it on whores, you are not the only young man to seek such pursuits,” Eddard said with a shrug. “Robb is yet fifteen, and while he remains a child, he shall not get a woman with a bastard.”

Slowly, Theon nodded. “I see. And my sister?”

“You may not depart with her. I will not give you over to your lord father. And your sister has a reputation as a pirate. True, she raids mostly merchants from Essos, but she is a pirate nonetheless. That is not the path I would set you upon. The Ironborn must change if they are to endure, Theon. They must become more than reavers and slavers. You have become a man of honor, Theon. And I would have your people learn the same from you.”

Upon hearing those words, Theon’s chest swelled with pride. “I’ll do what I can, Lord Stark. We Ironborn are a stubborn lot, but then, so are Northmen. I’ll lead my people to glory, whether they want it or not.”

“That gladdens me, Theon. Though you are not a son of my body, I think of you as one,” Eddard said. And, to Theon’s shock and delight, Eddard Stark hugged him. It wasn’t the first hug Theon had gotten from the Warden of the North, but it was the first in several years. When Theon had been a boy, he’d received his share of affection from his host, but as he’d gotten older, he’d required less physical affection from his father figure, and over time it had faded. Now though...now Theon realized that on many occasions, he really had wanted a hug from Westeros’s Best Dad. 

“I’ll make you proud, Lord Stark,” Theon said, his voice rough. “I swear it.”

Theon even resolved to not visit whorehouses again, though that was a vow he kept only for the next few days. He was, in many ways, still a boy, and one ruled by his passions and lusts. Unfortunately for him. 

That evening, Claire Greyjoy returned to her ship along with her men. The  _ Indefatigable  _ was moored at a dock that was meant for several large merchant ships, and to most eyes, looked distinctly out of place. No other ship at King’s Landing, or indeed the world save for her sister ships the  _ Victory  _ and the  _ Repulse,  _ looked like the  _ Indefatigable _ . 

They did, however, look an awful lot like an 18th century East Indiaman, a class of ship that had absolutely no business being in a medieval fantasy world. Of course, no one actually knew this, save for several irate goddesses that had given the party responsible a through chewing out for their actions. 

Captain Greyjoy strode up the gangway, to a cry of, “Captain on deck!” 

The crew, oddly enough for Ironborn, saluted their captain adroitly, knuckles to foreheads. 

“As you were,” Claire said, nodding to the sailors, who quickly returned to their duties. “How stands the watch, Mr. Harlaw?” 

“We have a visitor, Captain,” Earl Harlaw replied. He was also dressed in a uniform similar to Claire’s, another decided oddity. “Your uncle is below with her now.”

Claire closed her eyes, and appeared to count to five as the crew hastened to scramble out of the way. “Mr. Harlaw. Are you trying to inform me that  _ she  _ is here?”

“She turned up not an hour ago, Captain. The Damphair decided it was best to pull her aboard before the Greenmen noticed, and I agreed with him, begging your pardon,” Mr. Harlaw answered, looking slightly embarrassed. 

“No, Mr. Harlaw, you did as you should have,” Claire sighed. She supposed it was best she hadn’t found a whore earlier after all. “Adjust the watch schedule. I may be...occupied.”

“Already done, Captain. And...best of luck. I’d say Crawling One watch over you, but…”

Claire gritted her teeth. “Indeed. You have the deck, Mr. Harlaw.”

“I have the deck,” the first mate agreed, and returned to his task of seeing that the ship was set in order for the night.

  
“And send out a press gang. I have a feeling we may require more hands before this is all over,” Claire said as she headed below.”

  
“Aye aye, captain. I’ll send out Lieutenant Qarl and some lads.” Mr. Harlaw pronounced the word as “left-tenant,” yet another anachronism. 

Claire made her way belowdecks to her cabin, where she found her uncle Aeron Greyjoy, the Damphair and high priest of the Crawling One, waiting just outside. 

“Uncle. She is here?” Claire asked, fiddling nervously with her hat under one arm, as it was against regulations to go inside covered. 

“Once more, our goddess, She Who Crawls on Endless Tentacles has graced us with her presence, niece,” Aeon Greyjoy replied. “Truly, you are blessed by Chaos herself.”

“I’d rather she just bugger off and leave us alone,” Claire muttered, being a rather impious sort. 

Aeon glared at his niece, shaking his head and causing his long, shaggy mane of greying hair to move back and forth like swaying seaweed. “You were born under the Sign of the Goddess, She Who Rules Beneath the waves. She granted you this ship, and shall lead our people to freedom and glory through you, niece.”

“And she’s also a pain in the arse,” Claire said, but nodded to her uncle. “Thank you for keeping her out of sight. It is best if the greenlanders do not learn of our ladies...peculiarities.” 

With that, Claire pushed past her uncle into her cabin, which ordinarily was a neat and orderly place, with every chart and log precisely where it belonged, including a desk, two sea chests, and a porthole to look out behind the ship. Now, however, things were strewn about everywhere as though an overly energetic child or a small hurricane had been set loose in the cabin. On the bed, dressed in one of Claire’s own uniforms much to her consternation, lay a girl with long silver hair and green eyes, and one one tentacle that quickly vanished into her body after it dropped the book it had been holding up. 

“Oh, alas, the pirate queen returns to RAVISH me,” the girl wailed. “Me, a poor maiden, taken as a salt wife by cruel reavers, enslaved and forced to do UNSPEAKABLE lewd acts to satisfy the carnal CRAVINGS of the wild and mad queen of the seas!”

Glancing about her destroyed cabin, Claire tried very hard not to scowl, and only mostly succeeded, making her look as though she had to sneeze. “My lady. Is this what we’re doing this evening? You do know there are other mortals you could grace with your presence.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m not allowed in the Seven Kingdoms until the Tourney Starts. Probably gonna get another chewing out. Ugggghhhh. Those goddesses are so boring! Stupid Aqua. Why does SHE get to have all the fun!? We’re both water deities!” the girl whined, sitting up on the bed.

“Of course, my lady,” Claire agreed. Inwardly, she groaned. She was going to have to deal with this until the tourney? She had planned on getting some actual work done. “You shall be staying with me until then?”

  
“No, I gotta deal with some stuff. Stupid Kefka’s getting rowdy AND that asshole up north’s screwing around. And I sorta promised Madokami I’d help her and her girls out,” Clair’s guest sighed. Then she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms about Claire, who stiffened. “BUT CLAIRE-CHAN? How is Theon-kun?! My one true eternal love!” 

Claire rolled her eyes. “My little brother is well, my lady.”

“Oh Claire, we’re lovers! You don’t have to refer to me so formally. Call me Nyaruko-san!”

Claire regarded the goddess of the Iron Islands for a moment. She’d never been able to work out what the odd suffixes the manic deity randomly insisted on using meant. At times, she referred to herself as Nyarko, Nyarkolotep, the Crawling Chaos, or even the Drowned Goddess if she were in a bad mood. But at any moment, she could tack on all sorts of odd epitaphs, and use them to refer to others as well. 

“We’re not lovers, you just insist on harassing me,” Claire replied, her tone mildly scolding. One of her supposed goddesses more irritating aspects seemed to be that she had only a passing acquaintance with the truth, and seemed to lie out of habit and reflex. Claire suspected (correctly) that a good portion of the Cult of the Crawling One’s liturgy was nothing more than nonsense made up to amuse their capricious deity. 

“That’s just ‘cause you won’t let me use my tentacles,” Nyarko muttered. “Or turn into you into a guy. Come on, I’ve tried it before, it can be fun to experiment!”

“I am quite satisfied as I am, thank you. Now, was there a reason for this visit, besides wrecking my cabin?” Claire demanded. 

“Oh lighten up! You are like, the worst pirate I have ever seen. Pirates are supposed to be JOLLY!” 

“I am not a pirate. I am a privateer, given Letters of Marque by both the Lord of Pyke and the Iron Throne to conduct commerce raiding operations against the Free Cities, Slaver's Bay, and other powers of Essos and the Summer Isles,” Claire corrected. 

“See, this is why I’m making Theon-kun my lover. You’re boring. For someone reincarnated by a bunch of goddesses, you are really dull Claire. Theon-kun would be a pirate for me.”

“I follow the New Way, as created by you, Lady Nyarathotep. Or did you forget?” Claire asked, her left temple twitching slightly.

  
“I should have just kept you guys as knock off vikings. That was more fun than stuffy british copies,” Nyarko grumbled. What she was talking about, Claire had no idea, but the Crawling Chaos was strange beyond even goddesses. Nyarko brightened suddenly. “Hey, think you can get Theon-kun down here for a quickie? It’s been way too long.”

“Considering he is the hostage of Lord Stark and that the very first thing I would do once my brother was aboard would be to depart in all haste to save him from the greenlanders, no,” Claire replied, trying not to rub her aching head. 

“Drat. Well, I guess I can wait a few more days. I’ve waited a few hundred years already,” Nyarko sighed. “Oh well. Hey, just a heads up, but there’s gonna be a bunch of you people here for the tourney. Aqua’s got a plan or something. I dunno, those meetings are boring, I usually sleep through them. Bye!” 

  
And with that, Nyarko opened the porthole, turned into a writhing mass of tentacles, sliding through the space, and landing in the water below with a loud plop. Claire dearly hoped no greenlanders saw the Eldritch abomination from beyond the stars and self styled goddess of the Ironborn do so.

After cleaning up the absolute chaos that her goddess had left behind, Claire sat down on her bed and had a long think. What had Nyarko meant by “a bunch of you people?” So far as she knew, she and her brother and a few of her officers would be the only Ironborn to attend the tourney. She herself would not have attended, if Nyarko had not ordered it. As much as Claire found the weird deity distasteful, she was technically Claire’s superior, and she would follow orders. 

With a sigh, Claire turned to the secret compartment at the head of her bed, opening it with a secret key that sprang from a ring on her finger. Inside, lay a portrait of Iris Targaryen as a young girl, along with a lock of silvery hair. Tenderly, Claire caressed the image, bowing to it. “Fear not, Lady Iris. One day, I shall have my fleet, and we shall reclaim your place as rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Maybe then, Nyarko would finally leave Claire alone, and she could find a nice girl and settle down in peace. Preferably somewhere far from the saltwater, so she was never bothered by annoying goddesses again.

  
_ Cast of Characters _

_ Theon Greyjoy as; Desperately seeking fatherly approval _

_ Claire Shinfornea as; Asha Greyjoy. Excuse me. That’s CAPTAIN Greyjoy. _

_ Nyarko-san, the Crawling Chaos as; The Drowned God _

_ Eddard Stark as; Everyone’s Dad _

_ And The Iron Islands as; Wooden Ships and Iron Men. Get it? _

[ _ And- wait. Where’s that music coming from?  _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCBxI9yKLgw)

_ In an alternate reality, one with a lot more musical numbers; one written by The Grand Cognator _

Theon gaped at the woman who had so brazenly refused his advances. “Just who are you?”

The woman blinked at Theon. “I see. Well, it has been a few years, so I suppose it is only fair that you failed to identify me. As for who I am...oh, boys!”

At the woman’s call, there was the sound of opening doors and pounding feet, and a dozen sailors in various states of half dress pounded out into the central chamber. 

“Yes, cap’n?” an old salt with an eye patch asked, a man that Theon somehow thought he recognized. 

The woman nodded to Theon. “This is Lord Theon Greyjoy. He wishes for me to introduce myself.”

The sailors flushed slightly. “What, here, now?”

“I insist. It’s only proper,” the woman declared. 

The sailors knuckled their foreheads. “Right you are, cap’n.” 

A sailor hurried over with a large dark blue great coat, which the woman shrugged on, along with an odd hat, shaped a bit like a ship with a wide brim at the sides and the front and back turned up. Theon started when he saw a pin with the kraken of House Greyjoy on it, but he didn’t have time to think as the woman suddenly stepped up onto a table, as one sailor produced an accordion, and began to play. This was especially odd, as Theon didn’t know what an accordion was, as they shouldn't have been invented yet. 

To his astonishment, the woman began to sing in a bright, clear voice.

_ When I was a lass I found a ship _

_ While wandering the beaches for a skinny dip. _

_ I ran to the Seastone Chair at Pyke _

_ And I told my good Lord Father it was mine by right. _   
  


As she finished, the sailors all echoed the last line:

  
_ She told her good lord father it was hers by right! _

I didn’t know it yet, but by fortune sweet

I soon would be a captain in the Iron Fleet 

_ She didn’t know it yet, but by fortune sweet _

_ She soon would be a captain in the Iron Fleet _

My da’ rode out to see the ship 

And decreed only Greyjoys could captain it

The other reavers wouldn’t have it, they called bull

But my father laughed and called the ship the Indefatigable

_ But her father laughed and called the ship the Indefatigable _

My da’ bade me kneel down at his feet

And he fashioned me a captain in the Iron Fleet

_ Her da’ bade her kneel down at his feet _

_ And he fashioned her a captain in the Iron Fleet _

My brothers either hostage or dead at sea

A Reaver’s education I did receive

When all the day’s pillaging and raids were done

I offered sacrifices to the Crawling One

_ She offered sacrifices to the Crawling One _

My sacrifices were judged good and meet

So I am still a captain in the Iron Fleet

_ Her sacrifices were judged good and meet _

_ So she is still a captain in the Iron Fleet _

As a Privateer I wish’t be known

For I only sailed for the Iron Throne

But then they had the nerve to call my work at sea

The raggedy profession of piracy! 

_ The raggedy profession of piracy! _

For this insult I had them beat

For they spat upon the honor of the Iron Fleet

_ For that insult she had them beat _

_ For they spat upon the honor of the Iron Fleet _

So landsmen all, whoever you may be 

If you want to rise to the top of the tree, 

There’s a path you can take to make it so:

Remember that my house’s words are, “We do not sow,” 

_ Remember that her house’s words are “We do not sow,” _

Take a Salt Wife or two, and kill lots of Essosi

And you can be a captain in the Iron Fleet!

_ Take a Salt Wife or two, and kill lots of Essosi _

_ And you can be a captain in the Iron Fleet! _

With that, the woman gave a deep bow, and the sailors and whores clapped politely. Theon, for his part, could only manage a strangled, “Claire?” 

_ Fin _


	16. Hello Darkness My Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the rest of the party to join.

_ Sponsored by: Bud Light Beer. For a great taste that won’t fill you up and will never let you down, buy something else. This is basically horse piss with added ethanol.  _

_ Chapter 15: Hello Darkness My Old Friend _

The first day of the tourney dawned bright and clear; a perfect summers day with a cooling breeze coming off of Blackwater Bay. The chivalry and nobility of the kingdom had arrived in all their glory for the Tourney of the Hand, with houses from across the land competing. Even Lord Stanis had arrived from Dragonstone, though he had avoided speaking with Eddard and the king thus far, keeping his distance and speaking with Lord Baelish, Lysa Arryan, and his younger brother, Renly. 

Still, it was not a day for politicking, and Eddard hoped it would be a joyous one. And prayed Robb would be safe. 

“Lord Tyrell, allow me to introduce my children,” Eddard said, bowing to Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. “This is my heir, Robb. He shall be riding in the tourney.”

  
“Ah! He’ll be riding against my Loras, then!” the wide Lord of Highgarden laughed, slapping his youngest son of the back. “He looks a strong lad, I’m certain they’ll meet in the finals!”

“Mayhaps,” Eddard agreed neutrally. Loras was a boy of only 16, but had a reputation as a tourney knight already. Privately, Eddard hoped that Robb went up against Sandor Clegaine, who Eddard at least trusted to eliminate his son quickly and efficiently. “These are my daughters-” Eddard paused, and Yunyun gave him a nervous smile. Megumin, however, was nowhere to be seen. “-my eldest daughter, Yunyun.”

“Ah, I’m afraid my Margaery had to remain in her chambers this morning. Something about a cold I think,” Mace said, stroking his beard and frowning. “What of your other daughter, the Prince’s betrothed?”

“She is probably with his highness,” Eddard said, praying to goddesses old and new that they were not causing too much mayhem. He turned to Cecily, and gave the scepta a glare and mouthed, ‘Find them.’

Cecily looked around, realized that one of her charges was missing, and flushed and hurried off, clutching at her skirts. 

Steeling himself, Eddard turned to greet their next guests. “Lady Olenna. It is a pleasure to-”

  
“Oh spare me the pleasantries, Stark,” Olenna Tyrell grumbled. She was a shrunken, older woman with a cane, and her disposition seemed even more thorny than rumored. “Bad enough you had to haul my old bones out here for this silliness. We both know you and I hate tourneys. Why are they even bothering with this nonsense?”

“His Grace insisted,” Eddard replied neutrally. “And my own son shall ride in the Tournament.”

“Will he? Stupid boy. Good way to get himself killed. Well, I’ll say a prayer for him, if the damned goddesses are even listening anymore,” Olenna said, pushing past Eddard. “Cersei! There you are. I know you’ve a bottle of wine somewhere, woman. Give it over. Mace took mine before we left our chambers.”

“Mother!” Mace Tyrell gasped.

“Enough, boy. I’m not sitting through this farce sober. Well? Do you have it Cersei, or I am going to have to ask your husband?”

“I...shall see if we can obtain a glass for you, Lady Tyrell,” Cersei said, looking startled. 

  
“Don’t bother with a glass: only a skin or a bottle will do for me,” Olenna declared, and shuffled over to her place. Apparently, the Queen of Thorns had gotten cantankerous in her old age. 

As the Tyrell’s had been the last of the great lords to arrive, Eddard took a seat, as the opening ceremony of the tourney was soon to begin.

“Well if the woman wants a drink, bloody well give her one!” Robert roared at a wincing Rain Lannister. “What’s your name, girl?”

“R-Rain, your Grace, I-”

  
“Rain? Rain!? Who named you, some sort of slow witted weather maester? Now go fetch me and Lady Olenna some damned drink, girl!” 

  
Tears in her eyes, Rain ran off, and Eddard grimaced. “There’s no need to bully the child so, your Grace.”

“I’m surrounded by smirking Lannisters and sour Starks,” Robert grumbled. “One tells me what I can’t do, and the other tells me what I should!”

  
Eddard looked to Cersei, who’s mouth had formed a thin line of irritation. “If my lord husband wishes for our son to participate with the peasantry in the archery contest, far be it from me to forbid it. Even if my husband won’t even fight in the melee any longer.”

  
Robert rounded on Cersei, his face flushed in anger.

“I-I’m just so glad we’re all here together, t-to watch the Tourney!” Yunyun stammered, inserting herself between the quarreling royals. “C-Cersei, who do you intend to give your favor to? A-and R-Robert, w-who do you think will win the joust?” The girl was wringing her hands nervously and looked half terrified, but both the king and queen started, and looked slightly ashamed. 

“My brother shall wear my favor, as is proper,” Cersei managed, turning away from her husband.

  
“He won’t take this joust,” Robert snorted, but then softened his tone. “I don’t think your brother likely to either, Yunyun. The Mountain is riding in the lists today. And I don’t think anyone, even someone as skilled as Ser Jamie, is likely to overcome him.”

Eddard let out a sigh of relief and relaxed slightly, until he felt a trembling hand on his shoulder, and heard a panicked hiss of, “Boss!”

Heart thundering, Eddard spun to face Cecily, who was pale and breathing raggedly. What had happened to his daughter?

  
“Boss….We are in so much trouble…” Cecily groaned. Then stepped aside so that Eddard could see his daughter Megumin, sitting in her seat with the prince. At first he calmed. 

Then he saw their companion, and Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, nearly fainted. 

========================================================================

Earlier that morning, Kazuma and Megumin were preparing for the tournament. Not with any last minute archery practice, nor with prayers to the goddesses. Instead, they were practicing posing and introductions. 

“BEHOLD! I am Kazuma Baratheon! Foremost archer of the Crimson Demon Clan of Adventurers, and he who shall claim today’s prize in honor of my lady, Megumin Stark!” 

“Not bad,” Megumin said, blushing slightly at the last bit. “But you need to make a cool motion with your hand and not just stand there. A good pose is dynamic, not static.”

“Like this?” Kazuma asked, swaying side to side slightly and doing jazz hands as he did so. 

“No! That looks lame! You’re not a mummer, you’re a Crimson Demon!”

“No he’s not.” 

Kazuma and Megumin turned to see a scowling girl who looked to be perhaps a few years their senior. She seemed to be Tyroshi, with hair a vivid blue that could only have come from dye, and an odd bauble in her hair. Her dress, though, was of the Seven Kingdoms, a long blue gown inlaid with pearls and lace in the style of a high ranking Axis Septa. She suddenly broke into a grin, running forward and wrapping both Kazuma and Megumin in a hug.

  
“Oh my gosh guys, it’s been so long! So, turning Kazuma into a Crimson Demon already, eh Megumin? I’m glad you remember! That makes this a lot easier.”

Megumin flinched and glared at the girl as she separated, eyeing the flustered Kazuma. She turned back to the girl, but frowned instead of snapping at her. Did she know this girl? She seemed...familiar. 

“Who are you?” Kazuma asked, looking equally puzzled. 

“Oh come on guys, you remember me, right? I’m your best bud!” the girl cried, planting her hands on her hips. “Seriously? I took the next couple days off just so we could hang out! And you don’t even have the decency to remember me?”

“I think...I think I’ve seen you before,” Megumin said slowly, her mind thinking back. She nodded slowly. “Yeah. You visited Winterfell a few times, didn’t you? I saw you in the Sept. Didn’t you tell me about the hero's sword, Chunchumaru?”

“Right...I think I’ve seen you before too,” Kazuma said slowly. “You talked to me once and gave me a copy of the Axis Scriptures,  _ The Book of Awesome Things That I Totally Did. _ ”

“See? We’re buds! I knew you guys wouldn’t forget me! Oh, but I’m like, incognito and stuff. Call me Mizu!” 

“Alright...Mizu,” Megumin said, folding her arms over her chest. “But why are you here?”

  
“Duh, so we can watch the tourney! Oh man, this is gonna be awesome! You’re gonna be GREAT tomorrow, Kazuma! And I totally know Darkness is gonna win too.”

“Who’s Darkness?” Megumin and Kazuma asked at the same time. 

Mizu wrinkled her nose, looking back and forth between them. “What, you don’t remember? Oh well, I won’t spoil it. Oh, before I forget, one more thing.” Reaching over, Mizu smacked Megumin upside the back of her head. “STOP PRACTICING EXPLOSIONS INDOORS YOU LITTLE MANIAC! DO YOU WANT TO BLOW YOURSELF UP!?”

The sudden physical violence took Megumin off guard, and before she could react Kazuma was trying to wrestle the new girl to the ground, his fingers pinching her cheeks cruelly. “What did you do that for?!”

“Ow! Ow! Stop it! She’s the one who tried to blow up the Red Keep! Do you have any idea how many problems that would cause!? There were six of you here that day, it would have ruined EVERYTHING!” Mizu wailed, tears running down her face. 

Kazuma paused and let Mizu go, and turned to look at an embarrassed Megumin. “You what?” 

  
“Um, well, I mean, I didn’t actually manage to cause an Explosion,” Megumin muttered. Behind her, Chomususke let out a long suffering sigh. 

“I know, right? Sheesh. Thanks for getting her to stop, that would have been a real problem. I told your mom, she’s very proud,” Mizu said to the wolf. 

Kazuma and Megumin forgot their own argument, turning to Chomusuke and Mizu, baffled looks on their faces. Chomususke lay down and put her paws over her muzzle, one eye glaring at Mizu.

  
“What? What?!” Mizu demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glaring down at the wolf, who was currently shrunk to the size of a hound. “I give you a compliment and this is how you react? Sheesh. Is this because we didn’t pick you to be one of us? I told you, anyone who lets a little girl bind them as a familiar has no business being a big shot. You should just be glad Holo took you in.”

  
“Who are you talking to?” Megumin asked suspiciously. 

“Chomusuke. She thought she should have-” Mizu began, but the wolf bolted up and bowled the Axis Septa over, straddling the woman as she doubled in size. Mizu started to cry, until Chomusuke let out a low growl in her ear, then what Kazuma could have sworn sounded like some actual whispers. 

“Oh, fine. Whatever. They’ll catch on eventually you know,” Mizu muttered, but Chomusuke let her up, and the odd girl dusted herself off. “Look, anyway, no more Explosions indoors. Or in a city. Go somewhere with a wide sightline. I swear, you should have better sense about this, you know what you can do. Now come on! I want to make sure we get good seats.”

“We’re sitting in the royal box though,” Megumin said, frowning at Mizu. 

  
“Sweet! Oh man, do you think Robert will fight in the Melee? He’s, like, my favorite champion EVER.”

“He hasn’t done that in years. He’s too fat now,” Kazuma said, finding himself falling in beside Mizu as if it were perfectly natural. 

“Pfff, I can fix that. One Blessing and he’ll be up and at ‘em again!” Mizu laughed. 

Megumin eyed their new friend sideways. “Aren’t you an Axis Septa? What could purifying water do?” 

“Huh? No, like a real blessing. Besides, this is his last chance. Bobby B should go out on a high note,” Mizu declared. 

That got both Kazuma and Megumin to laugh. “Bobby B? Oh man, I’m so calling dad that,” Kazuma sniggered. “He always hates all those titles anyway.”

They made their way to the royal box, where there appeared to be an extra chair there, with a small name card on it that read “Mizu.” 

“I’m stealing this one,” Mizu said, taking her name off the chair. “This Mizu person will just have to lump it.”

Kazuma exchanged a look with Megumin, then both started laughing. “Aren’t YOU Mizu?”

“Oh. Um...hey, shut up! I er, look! I am a very busy Arch Priest! I forget things sometimes!”

“What’s an Arch Priest?” Megumin asked, frowning. “Aren’t you a septa?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m, like, a super important Septa. Oh hey, it’s Cecily! Cecily! Long time no see!” Mizu jumped up and wrapped Megumin’s tutor in an embrace causing the other woman to go pale and jerk away from Eddard, who was breathing quickly, his face flushed. 

“Hey, Ed! I hear you’re expecting again! Congrats!” Mizu said, patting the Lord of Winterfell on the shoulder, then moving on. “Yunyun! Good job on all the friends so far! You’ve come a long way, haven’t you? Megumin and Komekko behaving themselves?”

Yunyun looked up from her conversation with the queen, who frowned at the sudden intrusion. However, upon seeing their guest, Cersei’s eyes rolled up into her head, and she slumped over.

“I damn well knew I wasn’t drunk enough for this,” Olenna muttered. “This is your fault, Robert. I knew nothing good would come from having a party boy on the throne.”

“Oh my gosh, help!” Yunyun wailed, scrambling to lay Cersei down. “Elevate her legs! She’s going into shock! Get a maester, and a Renewal Cultist! What’s wrong with the queen?!”

“Hmm,” Mizu said, kneeling and running a hand over the Queen’s forehead, to the shock of the assembled nobility. “Huh. She just fainted. No problem, I got this.” 

“What are you-” Yunyun began, but then Mizu just slapped the queen across the face. 

  
“Hey, wake up! Shows about to start, don’t you wanna watch?”

  
Robert jerked up, fury blazing in his eyes, and opened his mouth, but Eddard put a hand on his shoulder and firmly sat the king back down. “She’s an experienced healer, Robert. Let her work.”

“She just slapped my wife!” Robert thundered, shooting back to his feet. “Selmy! You get your withered old arse over here and-”

  
“I- I’m fine,” Cerei gasped, sitting up with Mizu’s help. The queen looked at the smiling ditz, her eyes wide with panic. “M-my lady, what are you-”

“I’m here to watch the Tourney! And um, I’m… Kazuma, what’s my name again?”

“Mizu?” Kazuma offered, feeling very baffled and unsure if he should be furious or amused that someone had just slapped his mother awake. 

“Right. I’m Mizu the Axis Arch Priest. I mean Arch Septa. And I’m here to watch my best buddy Kazuma compete! And maybe we can get Bobby B to fight too, eh? Come on, you’re his wife! You know you want to see your husband kick ass and take names in the melee again!” 

Cersei’s mouth hung open along with everyone else’s for a long moment, until she looked at her husband and swallowed. “Um, well my Lord, It seems I must beg your pardon: clearly, you should fight in the melee.”

“Truey?” Robert asked, sounding stunned. Then he bellowed out a laugh. “Well, I have to say, I never thought I’d see anyone who could talk sense into my wife! Ha! I’ll do just that! You there, boys, Tyrek, Willem, go and get my armor ready! Haha! Bet you never thought you’d see your king fight again, did you, Ned?”

“No, your Grace,” Eddard managed, looking as though he wanted to be getting as drunk as Olenna was managing. 

The two Lannister boys looked disappointed, as they’d surely miss the joust, and turned away, but Mizu wasn’t done. 

“Hey, listen, when you need the breastplate stretcher, go get Rain. She can help you out,” Mizu said in a stage whisper.

The two squires nodded, and hurried off, and Mizu sat down next to Kazuma, humming to herself happily. 

“Breastplate stretcher?” Kazuma asked. “Really? Come on. I’ve never been a squire, but even I’m not dumb enough to fall for that.”

“Yeah, Theon asked Robb and Jon to look for one, they spent hours until they realized he was making fun of them. That wasn’t nice,” Yunyun lectured. 

  
“Why don’t you have a breastplate stretcher?” Mizu asked, blinking at Yunyun. “What if someone gets too fat for their armor, like Bobby B?”

The king just about choked on his beer, turning to glare at Mizu. His anger faltered when Kazuma and Megumin started cracking up. 

  
“S-sorry dad,” Kazuma cackled. “You really are pretty fat.”

“Oh man, someone needs to invent a breastplate stretcher,” Megumin hooted. “Are you gonna get big and fat like that when you’re old, Kazuma?” 

That made the prince stop laughing. “What? No! I mean...I don’t think so?”

“If he stays a lazy NEET who holes up in his room, he totally will,” Mizu said smugly. “He never even liked exercising like Bobby B does.”

“I am not a NEET!” Kazuma argued, poking Mizu in the shoulder. “And I get plenty of exercise!”

“Only because of Megumin. She’s the only reason you ever do anything!” Mizu snarled, pressing her head against Kazuma’s and shoving back at him. 

“Ha! I win again!” Megumin bragged.

“Your Grace,” Eddard groaned. “Please. Just start the games. Before someone commits an act of blasphemy.”

  
That got the three arguing children, even if one was probably a lot older than the others, to sit down and shut up, causing the Queen and Eddard to let out shuddering sighs of gratitude. 

“Bring forth the knights! And get me another beer!” Robert bellowed. He made a sour face, and muttered to himself, “Fat am I? I’ll bloody well show them. Think I’m fat, do they? I’ll win the whole bloody melee.”

“Heck yeah, Bobby B!” Mizu encouraged, giving him a thumbs up, a gesture that would have been ludicrously out of place if certain children hadn’t taken to using it. As it was, it only made Olenna roll her eyes. 

“You know Ned, I think I like this girl,” Robert mused, eyeing Mizu as she excitedly watched the knights and their squires parade past the royal box. “Easy on the eyes she is.”

“Robert, if you try to sleep with her, may the goddesses have mercy on your soul,” Eddard replied, closing his eyes and trying not to weep. 

“You’re no fun at all, you know that?” Robert muttered as Olena cackled madly. 

“Oh by all means, try my Lord,” Cercei snorted. “That would be something I would pay to see.”

Robert blinked, then looked at his drinking horn. “Seven Hells, didn’t think I’d had that much yet.”

As the knights rode past, various ladies stood and offered favors to them. Yunyun and Megumin both gave Robb scarves to tie about his lance, while the queen gave her brother her own favor, though she seemed oddly reluctant to do so. Myrcella, however, had a different idea. 

  
“Mr. The Hound!” she shouted, waving as Sandor rode past. “Come here!” 

“What?” he barked, but rode his horse close to the royal box. 

Mycella giggled, and had Kazuma help her lean out and tie a scarf to the big man’s lance, making him flush. “Kick their butts, Mr. The Hound.”

“As my lady wishes,” Sandor muttered, jerking his head in bow, and slammed his visor shut to hide a blush as he rode away. 

Cersei gave her daughter a disapproving look, but the little princess planted her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out. “Mommy, no one’s ever nice to him! Yunyun says we have to be nice to our friends!”

“Plus, he’s cool!” Tommen added. “Even if he is scary.”

When the Mountain rode out, however, Tommen and Myrcella shouted, “BOOOOOO!” 

  
Their mother looked ready to scold her children, until she noticed that Mizu was standing with the younger royals, shouting derisive comments at Ser Gregor Clegane as well. 

“Lord Eddard?” Cersei said, sounding faint.

Eddard, looking rather poleaxed still, managed. “Yes, your Grace?” 

“Remind me to tell my father he should find a new bannerman,” Cersei gasped. 

“What, because the children don’t like him?” Robert asked, sounding baffled. 

“Yes. Let’s go with that,” Cersei agreed. 

“Good, that guys an asshole,” Kazuma commented. 

“Boy, the Mountain’s a terrifying fighter. He’s just the sort of banner man a king WANTS leading the charge,” Robert lectured. “Just because you find a man unpleasant doesn’t mean there isn’t a use for him.”

“If the goddesses abandon a man, would any want to associate with him?” Cecily asked from her place at Eddard’s side, looking just as lost as her boss. 

“Darn right,” Mizu agreed. “I’ve said it before, Ath-”

Cecily suddenly coughed loudly, then shouted. “Oh look, a Mystery Knight! How exciting!”

She pointed to a knight with no tabard or house icon. The knight was tall, over six feet, riding a large warhorse with golden barding. The knight’s armor was lacquered in yellow and white, and the helmet had a feathery white plume atop it. 

“Oh, oh! Hey! Pssst, Darkness! Come here! I got a favor for you!” Mizu shouted, waving to the knight in question

The knight started, turning to look at the waving woman. “M-me?!” they said, in a surprisingly high pitched voice for such a massive rider. 

“Oh, Seven Hells,” Olenna groaned, resting her head in her hands. “You didn’t.”

“Come on, Darkness! You gotta have a favor! All the coolest knights do!” Mizu argued, holding up a pink scarf of her own. 

“Um,” the knight’s voice suddenly changed, becoming much deeper. “Thank you, my lady. I shall wear your favor with pride.”

“Awesome! Do me proud, Darkness! I know you can beat ‘em all!” Mizu encouraged, giving a double thumbs up. 

The knight spoke, voice high pitched again “T-thank you,-” they coughed, then tried again in a basso rumble, “Thank you, my lady. Though I have to ask, how do you know my name?”

“Cause you told me! Hey, Chris! Wait, why are you here? I don’t remember putting you here…”

The knight’s squire, a boy with Targaryen features who had been trying to hide behind his master's horse, peered out, and waved shyly.

“Ah, whatever. Who cares? Go kick some butt! This is gonna be so much fun!” Mizu declared, and eagerly sat back down. “Hey, where’s the drinks? Get me some bubbly, I want the good stuff!”

“I’ll get it!” Cecily gasped, then hurried off. She was back in moments, slightly wild eyed. “What’s bubbly?”

“Oh right, you don’t have that here. I’ll have what she’s having,” Mizu said, pointing to Olenna. 

“Right! Um, Highgarden’s finest, coming up!” Cecily scampered away, looking more frantic than ever.

“Megumin, what did you do?” Yunyun asked quietly, watching Cecily leave. 

“Huh?” Megumin frowned at Yunyun. “Nothing!” Yunyun gave her twin a flat look. “Really! Ask Kazuma!” 

“She tried to use her magic inside,” Kazuma said quietly. “Mizu came and chewed her out.”

“WHAT!?” Yunyun gasped. “How could you! You could have been-MMMPH!” 

  
“Ixnay on the agicmay,” Mizu hissed, hand clamped over Yunyun’s mouth. “It’s not supposed to be out yet! Besides, you haven’t managed to do anything more than a little sewing. Hurry it up! We don’t know how long you guys have, the others are breathing down my neck!” 

Yunyun said something muffled, then shrugged and nodded. 

“Good. And yes, we are friends, Yunyun. How many times do I have to tell you? Sheesh.” Mizu let the poor girl go. 

“Your wine, my lady,” Cecily panted, presenting a chilled goblet of wine to Mizu. 

“Awesome. Hey, where’s yours? Yo, Olenna! Come one, share with my favorite septa here! I know you and Cersei have to have some bottles.”

“That septa has to be the most impolite wench I’ve ever seen,” Mace commented, scowling at Mizu. “Even for an Axis Septa. What right does she-”

  
“Hush, boy. You’ll just embarrass yourself again,” Olenna snapped, and passed over the bottle to Cecily, who simply chugged it, before passing it to Eddard, who took a long pull himself.

  
“Dad?” Yunyun asked worriedly.

“Just, ah, nervous about your brother,” Eddard said, giving Yunyun a pained smile, and moping at his sweating forehead despite the cooling breeze

“Oh, don’t worry, Robb will do great!” Yunyun declared happily. 

Soon, servants were bringing a steady supply of alcohol, and Megumin noticed her father imbibing far more than he usually did. Before long a good portion of the royal box was rather inebriated, with everyone cheering loudly for the competitors. Megumin and Kazuma tried to sneak a few drinks, only for Mizu to confiscate theirs. 

“You’re both too young to start drinking! No wine!” Mizu ordered, then guzzled the drinks and let out a loud belch. 

  
“You’re not that much older than we are,” Kazuma argued. 

  
That made Cecily dissolve into gales of laugher, nearly falling out of her seat. The queen began to chortle as well, and Eddard managed a nervous giggle or two himself. 

  
“Seven Hells, what has gotten into you lot?” Robert demanded. “How is it that I’m the only bloody one of us that’s sober?”

“Experience,” Olenna declared, taking another pull from her wineskin. “These lightweights hold their beer no better than a Flea Bottom whore.”

“Mother!” Mace cried in a strangled voice, looking like a fish with his mouth flopping open. 

His mother rolled her eyes. “Oh, do be quiet, Mace. You’re at least half the reason I’ve come to this state.”

  
“Not been the same since my lord father died,” Mace managed, tugging at his tunic sleeves nervously.

“Shhh, it’s Robb’s turn!” Megumin ordered. She motioned to Chomusuke as Yunyun motioned to Lady. All four she-wolves threw their heads back and howled lustily as Robb rode up to the lists, causing a variety of odd looks to be directed their way.

  
That didn’t last long, as Robb suddenly stood in his stirrups. “BEHOLD! I am Robb Stark, the Young Wolf of the North, and he who shall claim the victors prize this day!” 

“YOU GO BIG BRO!” Megumin and Yunyun cheered, which caused Mycrella and Tommen to jump up and down and start chanting “Big Bro, Big Bro!” as the commons went wild at the display. 

“Need another pull, boss?” Cecily asked, offering the wine bottle to Eddard.

“I think I need to stay at least partly clear headed for this,” Eddard groaned, giving a pained smile to his son. 

“Hmmm,” Mizu said, eyeing Robb, who was going up against Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard, an experienced tourney knight. “You want him to win, right girls?”

“Of course, he’s our Big Bro!” Megumin declared. 

  
Yunyun nodded seriously. “Robb is one of my best friends. Ser Meryn is my friend too, but Robb is my brother; he’s family.”

“Well, OK. I guess we can cheat a little.” Mizu pointed to Robb as he prepared to charge. “Blessing!” 

For a brief instant, there was a shimmer above Robb’s head, and Megumin thought she could see a glowing blue shape, like that of a water wheel. She gasped, and looked to Kazuma. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Kazuma asked, but Yunyun was gaping. 

She looked to Mizu, frowning. “Are...are you a Fortuna Septa? Or one of the Faith Militant? Isn’t it cheating to use those blessings on knights at tourneys?”

“It’s cheating to use one of Eris’s or Athena’s blessings, yeah. But, as I am Aq-”

“A quite talented Septa!” Cecily blurted. “She’s um, really talented! Aqua’s favorite!”

“Nah, you’re my favorite, that’s why I keep bringing you back!” Mizu laughed, causing Cecily to blush and look down. 

The two knights charged, and Megumin let out a gasp as both lances shattered on the shields of their opponents. Robb managed to keep his seat, but a cursing Ser Meryn tumbled to the ground. 

  
“GO BIG BRO!” Megumin and Yunyun screamed along with Tommen and Myrcella, the byplay between Mizu and Cecily forgotten already.   
  
Next came Ser Jamie Lannister, riding against the mystery knight, Darkness.

  
“Aww, tough break, Cercei,” Mizu laughed. “I don’t even need to bless her!” 

The queen eyed Mizu, then glanced at her brother, who appeared far more confident then the fumbling Mystery Knight of Darkness, whose squire was having to give a last minute pep talk. “I think my brother has a chance.”

Mizu giggled and shook her head. “Nope!” 

The two riders charged, and Ser Jamie’s lance struck home easily. Indeed, somehow, the mystery knight fumbled their shield, taking the blow full on the breast plate, while their lance only grazed Jamie’s shield. Despite the clean hit, The Knight of Darkness seemed positively delighted, though their squire waved at them frantically, clearly outraged at the poor showing. 

Looking chagrined despite the full helm, the mystery knight came about, and tilted again against Jamie. And though the queen’s brother scored another clean hit, he had no better success. Indeed, he staggered from a much better blow from the mystery knight, who seemed solid as a stone in the saddle. On the next pass, Darkness’s lance struck true, and Jamie was launched out of the saddle. He had scored another excellent hit, but it appeared to do nothing but excite the mystery knight.

“Damn fool,” Olenna mumbled. “Going to be the death of me.”

“Do you know that knight, mother?” Mace asked, frowning. “I don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

“Well, then you’re even blinder than my husband was when he rode off that cliff. More wine!” Olenna ordered. 

To Megumin’s delight, Robb seemed unstoppable that day. He tilted against several formidable knights, including Loras Tyrell and Aron Santagar, the Arms Master of the Red Keep, defeating them both easily after a single tilt.

“KICK HIM THE BALLS, BIG BRO!” Tommen bellowed to Robb before he faced Santagar, making the King nearly choke on his beer, while the queen merely let out a long suffering sigh. 

“That’s not how jousts work, Tommen,” Cersei said, pulling her son back down as his nursemaids fluttered about in shock. 

“Oh. Um, Big Bro, how do you win jousts?” Tommen asked, turning to Kazuma.

“Easy, get Sandor to do them for you,” Kazuma advised. Tommen nodded seriously, while Robert looked at Kazuma incredulously.

“Don’t you want to joust in a tourney, boy?” 

“Heck no. I’m gonna be a champion archer, just you watch,” Kazuma said, giving his father a wink.

“At least he’s taken up a martial pursuit? You were never much of a jouster either, Robert,” Eddard pointed out.

“Of course not. Can’t very well smash someone’s head in during a joust or archery,” Robert grumbled, but let the matter drop. 

As for Mizu’s favored knight, they defeated both Renly Baratheon, and Ser Barristan Selmy, much to Megumin’s disappointment.

  
“We’re rooting for Robb, remember?” Yunyun told her sister. 

  
“Yeah, but… but he’s just so cool,” Megumin sighed. “I guess a mystery knight is pretty cool too. But I really wanted to see Barristan the Bold win a tourney! Or at least lose to Robb.”

The semi-finals came down to the Clegane brothers, Robb, and the Mystery Knight. Sandor and the Knight of Darkness were up first, and competed in several fierce tilts. On the third pass, both were unhorsed, and scrambled to their feet, going at it with swords. Sandor seemed dazed from his fall, however, and after two harsh blows, he was knocked flat on his back, and yielded to Darkness, who seemed disappointed, but good naturedly offered him a hand. 

“You’re a fool, you know, you and that boy,” Sandor growled as he was let up. “My brother will kill for that purse.”

“Really?” the mystery knight asked. 

  
“He’ll come after you, and beat you bloody,” Sandor warned.

“You… you think so!?” the other knight demanded, sounding positively eager. 

That made Sandor flinch back. “Bloody maniac.” He stumbled from the field with the help of his squire, leaving the Mystery Knight to walk away with his silent squire, who glanced nervously at Mizu. 

  
Mizu, however, was busy puking over the back of the royal box, having managed to put away fully a dozen bottles of wine over the course of the day. Cecily was rubbing her back, looking nervous. Megumin wrinkled her nose, then sniffed the air. She turned, just in time to see a sparkling rainbow erupt from Mizu’s mouth as a panicked Cecily tried to use her head scarf to hide it. 

“Kazuma, Yunyun, do you see that?” Megumin asked.

“Yeah, Robb’s screwed,” Kazuma sighed, and Yunyun let out a whimper.

Megumin spun to see Ser Gregor Clegaine, brother of Sandor Clegane, ride out onto the tourney grounds. The Mountain was a literal giant, nearly eight feet tall, larger even than his brother by over a foot. Robb was not a small man, but compared to Gregor, he looked to be a child.

“Y-you can do it, Big Bro!” Yunyun called nervously. 

Robb lowered his visor, and gamely raised his lance and shield. He and Gregor thundered down the lists, and Robb was nearly flung from his saddle as Gregor’s lance shattered against his shield, but somehow, he managed to stay in his seat.

  
“Sorry,” Mizu muttered, taking a seat again. “Last one’s just about wore off. Blessing!” 

Once more, Megumin saw the seven spoked water wheel appear about Robb’s head, then fade in a shower of blue sparks. “Ok, you saw that, right Kazuma?” she demanded. 

  
“Yeah, your brother should just yield. Gregor’s killed people in jousts before,” Kazuma said quietly. 

“Not that!” Megumin hissed, but then, Robb was tilting again. This time, Gregor’s mount suddenly shied as Robb’s lance impacted Gregor’s shield, causing Gregor’s aim to be thrown off. Gregor roared in anger as he tumbled from the saddle. In a fury, he drew his sword, turning to his own beast.

  
“Ser!” Robb called, turning his mount and riding around to Gregor’s side. “There is no need to-”

  
With a bellow, Gregor reached out and dragged Robb from the saddle with one hand, flinging him to the ground. He raised his sword, and Megumin found herself screaming in panic. Yunyun’s eyes began to glow, and she raised a hand.

  
“LIGHT OF-”

  
“No,” Mizu said, pulling Yunyun’s hand down. “Darkness has this.”

From the sidelines, the Mystery Knight charged on foot, moving almost faster than the eye could see as they bellowed, “INTERCEPT!” 

They came to a halt, right in the path of Gregor’s blow, and the crowd roared in anger. Megumin thought she was about to see the poor knight cut in half, but to her astonishment, there was a sound like that of a bell being struck, and Gregor staggered back, his sword rebounding from the mystery knight’s armor.

  
“SEIZE THAT MAN!” Eddard was bellowing, drawing his sword and leaping out of the royal box as Stark men-at-arms raced to stop the fight. 

Gregor was heedless to the Hand’s commands, backhanding one guard and thrusting his blade at the mystery knight again with a roar. Instead of raising a blade, Darkness simply opened their arms wide, and once more the crowd gasped in horror. Somehow, instead of skewering the brave knight, Gregor’s sword shattered on the armor. He looked at his broken blade in astonishment, and even Eddard Stark paused, unable to believe his eyes.

“Oh, stop standing there and finish it before someone else gets hurt, you fool!” Olenna called.

“Yes, ma’am!” the mystery knight squeaked, and swung a fist at Gregor, and clumsily hitting his chest. 

  
The Mountain went flying back, crashing through the barrier between the lists and tumbling across the churned ground in a clatter of metal, before slamming into one of the boxes in a crunch of wood. Sandor was the first to reach his brother, hauling the dazed man out of the wreckage non-to-gently.

  
“Arrest him!” Eddard barked, pointing his sword at the fallen Mountain. “Take that man to the dungeons! He attempted to slay my son!” 

“It will be my pleasure,” Sandor said with a vile grin and evil laugh. “You’ve done it now, you fool. There’s no coming back from this one: all have seen your crimes.”

Gregor, however, was only able to spit blood and teeth, moaning and coughing as he was clapped in irons and hauled away. 

With that, Eddard turned to Robb, who was helped to his feet by Darkness. 

  
“Um, well, I guess now we face one another?” they strange knight said, their voice once more a deeper tone.

“No,” Robb said, removing his helm. “I yield, sir. You saved my life. Gregor would have split me in half. How you survived, I do not know.”

“You have my thanks,” Eddard said, clapping the knight on the shoulder, tears in his eyes. “My son… whatever you need, Ser, you shall have. I would offer you a holdfast on my own lands for saving my son’s life this day.”

  
“T-that’s very kind, but, um, well, I really think we should tilt-”

“Oh, give it over you fool, you’re in for it now!” Olenna called. 

The mystery knight stiffened, then bowed. “T-thank you, Lord Stark. I must decline your gracious offer: the honor of saving a, um, fellow knight is enough.”

“May I know the face of the man who saved my son?” Eddard asked earnestly. “Your fame should be spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms.”

“What?!” the mystery knight squawked, voice breaking. “I mean, no, my lord, I must remain-”

“Oh, come now!” Robert said, coming to the railing of the royal box. “Your king commands it! Remove your helm, ser, and name your Queen of Love and Beauty! No maid could deny a man so valorous this day!” 

The Mystery Knight backed away nervously, and behind them their squire hurried out with a horse, looking panicked. 

  
“I, I, I cannot, I-”

  
“Just do it, you fool!” Olenna ordered. “I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen! Now you have to face the consequences!” 

After another moment’s hesitation, the Knight of Darkness looked to their squire, who sighed. 

“May as well, I don’t think even I could get out of this,” the squire said in what was unmistakably the voice of a young maiden, causing Eddard and Robb to start in surprise. 

Slowly, the knight reached up, and removed their helm. Instead of a grizzled man, or even a smooth cheeked youth, they revealed the blushing face of a maiden with pale skin, soft brown eyes, and long curling brown hair that was messy with sweat. 

“Margaery?!” Mace Tyrell gasped, jerking up in his seat. 

“I KNEW IT!” Megumin bellowed, jumping up on the railing. “HA! YOU ARE ALL LIARS! A WOMAN CAN BE A KNIGHT! SHE BESTED YOU ALL!” 

“G-greetings, father,” Margaery Tyrell managed, wincing slightly as she bowed. “R-really though, I-I’d prefer it if you call me Darkness.”

  
“Fool of a girl never did like her own name, even if I didn’t let you name her Lalatina,” Olenna grumbled.

“I-I guess, um, I guess I name, um, my Grandmother, Olenna Tyrell, as Queen of Love and Beauty?” Margaery stammered. 

“This is madness!” Robert bellowed, whirling and pointing an accusing finger at the Tyrells. “You can’t have a bloody woman win the joust! What is the meaning of this, Lord Tyrell?!”

“Um, well, I guess that means I’m disqualified, doesn’t it?” Margaery sighed. She gave Robb a nervous smile. “Well, I do not regret my choices. Congratulations on winning your father’s tourney, Lord Robb.”

“What? No!” Robb spun. “Your Grace, this, um, brave knight, defeated all challengers, and saved my life! Surely, she is a worthy champion!”

The king slowly turned to Robb, his face a mask of anger and confusion.

“Your Grace, Lady Tyrell saved my son’s life,” Eddard said, feeling a mixture of gratitude, confusion, and existential dread. “As this tourney was held in my honor, I would name her champion. She is worthy.”

“Yeah dad, this is totally your chance to strike a blow for gender equality!” Kazuma agreed loudly, making Megumin hop down from her perch and grin at him. 

“Goddesses be good,” Robert grumbled.

“I’m cool with it!” Mizu piped up, making Cecily let out a strangled sob. 

“Very well! I give you, Lady Margaery Tyrell, champion of the Tourney of the Hand!” Robert declared, though he still seemed reluctant. There was scattered applause and cheers, as if even the commons didn’t know what to do.

  
“Hmph. Lame,” Mizu muttered. “Greater Blessing.”

Suddenly, the sky seemed to tear open, and a great glowing seven spoked waterwheel appeared in the sky above Darkness, causing the crowds to cry out in shock.

“She is chosen by Lady Aqua!” someone shouted, and soon the commons were cheering raucously for their beloved goddess and her newest champion. Few noticed Margaery’s squire glare at Mizu, looking peevish at the blatant display of power. 

“Are you…?” Megumin asked, frowning at Mizu.

“Am I what?” Mizu asked, giving Megumin a vacuous smile. 

  
“Nevermind,” Megumin said, shaking her head. 

  
There was no way this blue bimbo was really a goddess. 

_ Cast of Characters: _

_ Mizu as; Who do you think? _

_ Chris the Thief as; Hol’ up, does that mean Eris is here too?  _

_ Chomusuke as; Rejected by the New Goddesses. But she’s still a good pupper.  _

_ Darkness as; Margaery Tyrell _

_ Olenna Tyrell as; So done with this shit _

_   
_ _ Mace Tyrell as; Derp _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as progressively minded supporters of Gender Equality _


	17. Eat, Drink, and be Merry, for Tomorrow You Could Be An Ice Zombie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think the Others were going to be a push over, did you?

_ Need to talk with your god? Try DivineMessenger, Worshiper Edition! Leave prayers and offerings with the touch of a button, and earn cool blessings to show off to your friends!  _

_ Chapter 16: Eat, Drink, and be Merry, for Tomorrow You Could Be An Ice Zombie _

Despite the late hour, the streets of King’s Landing were crowded as Cecily made her way along the avenue. She wasn’t wearing her scepta’s robes, as she didn’t want to be pulled into a party right now. This was, perhaps, the first time in her life (this one anyway) where that was true. She made her way from the Red Keep to the Great Sept of Balor, dodging past partying small folk and nobles alike. May of them were raucously celebrating the very event that was causing her so much consternation: the Great Miracle of Aqua. 

Outside of the Sept, two members of the Faith Militant stood guard, their armor gleaming in the Lights of Hope that hovered above the entrance. The combination of members of Athena’s Cult and the blessings of Madoka’s Cult of Magi proclaimed the sept as one where all orders of the Seven were welcome, and indeed the outside had stained glass depictions of the Seven Goddesses, their consorts and heroes, and the various deeds of the faithful throughout the millennia. 

  
“Welcome, friend. How may we help you?” one of the brothers asked, his tone gentle but firm as he blocked Cecily’s path. 

Digging out her water wheel pendant that marked her as a septa, Cecily said, “I need to meet with the High Septa, and the heads of any orders here. Fetch them and wake then if you must, this is urgent.”

The guards exchanged a look. “Sister, it is late, and the High Septa rests, as do most of the Arch Septons and Septas. It would be difficult to-”

“Oh, here, just read this,” Cecily interrupted, and held out a roll of parchment, sealed with the Hand of the King’s own sigil.

Eyebrows shooting up, the older of the Militant Brothers accepted the letter, breaking the seal and reading it. His eyes widened as he read, mouth dropping open. “Then, the miracle-”

  
“Was a freaking party trick; but it was real. Now are you going to go get the leaders of our faith or am I going to have to do it myself?!” Cecily demanded. 

“Wake the Brothers, and fetch the High Septa,” the paladin ordered. 

  
“Sir,” the other bowed, then hurried off.

Cecily was shown to an opulent waiting room, and began to pace nervously back and forth, wringing her hands. It wasn’t long before the High Septa, Charity XIV, hurried in, still in her nightgown and followed by two attendants. She had entered into her eighth decade not long ago, but as she was blessed by the goddesses, her stride was firm and swift . She had once been called Tristana Westerling, but had taken her vows as a septa of Ristarte when she had been but a maid. She had been married, as was only proper for one of the followers of her order, but her husband was long dead, as were several of her children.

“Wait outside,” the High Septa ordered her followers, and closed the door behind her. She stopped before Cecily, studying her for a moment. “Well. What is this, my daughter?”

Cecily knelt, tears filling her eyes as she took the wrinkled hands of the leader of the Faith of the Seven. “Mother, forgive me, for my heart is full of fear, and I know not my path.”

“Be at peace, child,” Charity said gently, her hand reaching up to smooth a lock of hair away from Cecily’s forehead. “For the goddesses watch over us all. Now. What is it you can tell me of the Miracle at the Tourney this day?”

“Lady Aqua herself performed it, and I witnessed it,” Cecily said quietly. “But she was there, Mother.”

“Of course, her sign made it obvious she favors Margaery Tyrell. She would not be the first female knight, though it has been-”

  
“Mother, you do not understand, Aqua sleeps now in the Tower of the Hand in a guest bed chamber. She took meat and mead at my lord's table with his daughters, Prince Kazuma, and Margaery Tyrell.”

The High Septa blinked, seeming not to understand. “Child?”

“Aqua is  _ here _ , Mother, in the flesh! I have spoken with her before, but always it was in a dream or my prayers, she never-”

The door banged open, and a man in disheveled Axis robes stumbled in. He had a narrow face, and neatly trimmed beard going grey. His hat was askew, showing he was going bald as well. “Alright, what’s going on? I was having a good time! Lady Aqua *hic* gave us a sign!”

“Come in and sit down, Brother Zesta,” Charity said, sounding faint as she took a heavy seat in one of the padded chairs in the office.

“Huh what’s-” Zesta paused, realizing that Cecily was still there, kneeling on the floor. “Don’t I know you?”

“A-Arch Septon,” Cecily cried, bowing her head. “Um, I don’t know if you remember me, but, I’m Septa Cecily Rivers. I, um, I was the one that was sent-”

  
“Goddesses be good, you’re the favored of Aqua she sent to Winterfell,” Zesta gasped, putting a hand to his chest. He sat down next to Charity, looking a bit pale. “Was it you who performed the Sign of The Joyful One at the Tourney?”

Cecily shook her head, biting her lip. “No. That...that was Aqua herself. I think...I think Margaery Tyrell is another of the Children of Destiny. Aqua indicated she knew her. And another: a girl, Chris Dayne. Aqua greeted her as a friend as well.”

“I think...I think I’m not drunk enough for this yet,” Zesta muttered, and pulled out a flask. He took a pull, then passed it to Charity, who took a drink as well, looking stunned. 

“We’ve known the Children of Destiny were here for the past 20 years,” Charity sighed, rubbing her temples. “You were the first sign, child. Revealed to us when you were barely more than a babe. This is her, I take it?”

“She is the one,” Zesta agreed. “I was not yet Arch Septon of the Axis Cult then, but I was informed of her upon my ascension. Aqua herself appeared in a dream and told me she was the Child of Joy, here to prepare the way for the rest of the Children.”

“Rise, child. Have a seat. Have a drink,” Charity ordered, handing over the flask. “The others will be found as they can, but many are out enjoying themselves. We are fortunate that Zesta here seems to have been enjoying himself in his bed chambers.”

Zesta blushed and coughed. “Well, I mean, when your lady appears in the sky, that’s a good reason to party.”

“You’re Axis. You think everything is a good reason to party,” Charity said, but she did so with a gentle smile. Then she turned more serious, looking back to Cecily. “But you are certain? The goddess herself has appeared?”

“I recognized her! So did Lord Stark, and the Queen! She was not…” Cecily struggled for words. “She was in disguise, but it was not a good one.”

“Our Lady isn’t a subtle one,” Zesta agreed. He took back his flask and drank again, making a face. “But if she’s here, walking among us… that isn’t a good sign.”

“We must find the rest of the Children of Destiny,” Charity agreed. “Dark times approach. The goddesses do not send champions in days of peace. Even during Robert’s Rebellion, the goddesses stayed out of the affairs of men aside from sending more healers, and Satella appeared to grant mercy to far too many souls.”

“We can’t have another Kinslayer situation,” Cecily agreed, sitting in a chair and rubbing her shoulders in worry. “He was the last Child of Destiny to appear.”

“That is why you were sent to guard the Children of Winterfell,” Zesta agreed. “But now we learn there are others. How many?”

“Chris Dayne, Margaery Tyrell, and Prince Kazuma Baratheon,” Cecily said, trying not to wince as she lied. But that was a secret she had promised herself she would take to her grave. “And, um, maybe some others. I’ll have to check.

“Seven. Seven children of Destiny, at least,” Charity muttered, looking increasingly worried. “And the Stormborn is out of reach. For her to come at such a time… I had feared we would simply see a Targaryen on the throne again, even if one that was not as mad as her father. But now…”

“Now we do not know what to do,” Zesta sighed, taking off his hat and scratching at his thinning grey hair. 

“Um, I, er, could ask Aqua?” Cecily offered. “When she wakes up. She’ll have a bit of a hangover, but I can probably get some answers out of her. We’re ‘best buds’ or something.”

That got Charity and Zesta to exchange started looks. “You think… you think she would answer you?”

“I mean, probably. We talk all the time, I just thought we already knew the Children of Destiny and didn’t ask her about it that much,” Cecily admitted. 

“What do you talk about?” Charity asked curiously. 

“Um, well, I mean…” Blushing, Cecily swallowed and made herself answer. “...what girls I think are cute, gossip about what people say during confession, what Megumin got up to lately, what Komekko tried to eat, who Yunyun decided to make friends with, and, um, well, when Aqua and Rista get in trouble for something-”

  
“Who’s Rista?” Charity asked suspiciously. 

“Er, I mean, Lady Ristarte. And what Hestia’s kids are doing, and what Aqua had for dinner, and if she likes my new dress, and-”

“You really are her best bud,” Zesta gasped, looking pale. “How… how often does the goddess talk to you?! I’m lucky if I get a direct answer once a month!”

That made Cecily feel pretty bad. She’d never liked talking about this, but now it seemed important. “P-pretty often. A few times a day at least. This morning I was a bit worried because when I woke up my only message was a ‘I’ll see you soon’ with a winky face emoji.”

“Winky face emoji?” Charity asked, her voice faint. 

“Um, yeah. It’s er, it’s in DivineMessenger. I, um, here. I’ll draw one.” Cecily quickly sketched out a crude face smiling and winking, along with a few other emojis. “They just sorta...pop into my head. I can ignore them if I want. Sometimes we do video chat too, usually when I’m sleeping. Every once in a while some of the other goddesses join in, usually Eris or Rista, they’re Aqua’s closest friends in the Pantheon, but I talk to the others too sometimes. Satella’s kinda a creeper because she’s always going on about the latest souls she’s collected and…”

Cecily trailed off as she realized that both the High Septa and the leader of her own cult were gaping at her. 

“You talk to ALL the goddesses!? I… I don’t even do that,” Charity gasped, her hands clutching at her head. “How...how have you not gone mad?!”

“Who says I haven’t? Sanity’s boring. Just ask Aqua!” Cecily joked, a smile blooming on her lips as her prior fear was forgotten. “Even Madoka says most mortals are hard to talk to because we do all this groveling. She lets me borrow her blessing whenever it’s dark though, see?” Cecily snapped her fingers, conjuring up a ball of light. “I could use it whenever I wanted in Winterfell because they don’t really get that I’m an Axis Septa and we’re only supposed to purify water, but I’ve tried not to use it here because people would probably get weirded out. Sorta… sorta like you two are right now. Am I in trouble?”

“No my child, I… you are not in trouble,” Charity managed, giving a wan smile to Cecily and looking rather dazed. “I… I will discuss this with the other Cult Leaders when they arrive. Return to the Goddess, and attend her. Learn what you can of all the Children of Destiny, and why they are here. Ask… ask the others of the Seven as well.”

  
“What about Holo and Nyarko-san?” Cecily blurted. 

“Holo and...who?” Charity asked, blinking. 

“Um, I mean the Old Goddesses and the Drowned Goddess. Um, they dip into our group chat sometimes too,” Cecily admitted. “That’s er, well, Aqua’s says it’s not blasphemous but I gotta be careful because Nyarko lies all the time. She’s not really a goddess but she keeps bugging me about Theon.”

“My child, I think we shall need to have some very long talks about the many, many theological revelations that seem to be bouncing around inside your head,” the High Septa said faintly. “Go, now, before you give this old woman a heart attack.”

“Oh, um, I can do healing too, you know,” Cecily offered. 

  
Zesta barked out a laugh. “Of course you can! No, go, little sister. We’ll talk more later.”

Cecily bowed, and hurried away. As she did so, there was a little ding in her head, and she got a message from Eris. 

_ Look, tell Aqua, I can explain, and that I’m still a maiden. I’m dealing with something back in Belzerg and I’ll talk to her when she gets back. _

Cecily let out a whimper. She was just an Axis Septa. This was supposed to be  _ fun _ . Not a terrifying existential crisis!

=====================================================================

Coughing, Benjen awoke from his half dazed sleep as foul tasting water was forced down his throat. He spat and tried to resist, but after weeks of rough treatment and terror, he could manage only a little. He looked up at the faces of his men as their empty eyes looked down at him, forcing now a thin broth into his mouth. 

They had been dead for a long time now, and were starting to rot. How long had it been since the ambush? Benjen couldn’t tell, in the eternal daylight of the Lands of Always Winter during the summer. But it had been too long. 

He and his rangers had been tracking the Witch when a sudden blizzard had blown up. They knew what that meant: White Walkers. The Others. They had come out of the snow, silent and terrible with their pale armor and icy blades, but the Rangers had fought their kind before. But this time, there were too many corpses with them. Wildlings and beasts freshly killed and raised, or bones dead so long they were impossible to identify. The Rangers had fought well, but they were cut off, surrounded, and worn down by sheer terrible numbers. 

Benjen had watched his men die, watched them rise. He’d thought he was dead too. If only that had been the case. 

He was being carried tied to a pole, hauled along between the corpses of two of his men. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of one of the Others in their icy armor, but not often. They let their undead slaves do their work. Where they were taking Benjen, he did not know. Nor did he want to. 

But he feared he knew. 

That day, he was carried down from a tall mountain into a valley shrouded in a thick mist. The vapor seemed to be ice crystals floating in the air, and seemed to freeze Benjen to the bones. He shivered uncontrollably, both from fear, and from his weakening body. He started to drift off again, only to be awakened as the group once more began to ascend up a steep slope. However, when he looked, Benjen saw dark, shaped stone.

“No,” he croaked. “No…”

But his weak struggles were in vain, and he was carried up the stairs of the dark citadel. At last, he was cut loose, and he flopped on the frozen stone, struggling to stand. Two others came, grabbing him with a touch that could freeze a man’s soul. They spoke in their terrible language, but Benjen could not understand it; no mortal man could. 

He was carried to an icy altar, strapped down by bonds of cold iron. He prayed fervently to all the goddesses he knew, old and new, and even to the witch, but he knew they could not hear him. Not here. 

Turning his head, Benjen was able to see what he had feared: a great block of ice, dark blue and shrouded in the mists, set atop the fortress. Within it sat a figure in dark plate, a terrible blade that seemed to be made of pure ice gripped in a frozen hand. 

“No… no… you are dead,” Benjen whispered as the Others gathered around him. He looked up, tears freezing in his eyes as the tallest one, dressed in a dark robe with silver scroll work on the sleeves raised an icy dagger. “Please, no, I-”

The dagger plunged down into Benjen’s heart, and he let out a final gasp of pain, before his eyes went dull and blank. Dark blood seeped from the wound, pooling down to collect in a silver bowl set beneath the altar. The priest of the Others waited a minute, then took up the steaming bowl of blood that was already cooling. He hurried to the throne, pouring the dark fluid out upon the ice that sealed away the figure. 

As he did so, the ice steamed and hissed, and began to melt away. The Others stepped back, bowing low. Cracks appeared in the dark ice, and within the block, two blue lights appeared where the eyes of the seated figure would have been. 

Then, with a scream of shattering ice, the front of the block dissolved in a boiling mass of steam. The Others stumbled back slightly, but then resumed their posture of supplication.

Slowly, the dark armored figure stood, ice falling away from him like shed scales. He took up his blade, and walked over to the altar, where Benjen’s cooling corpse lay. He raised his blade, and the strange runes upon it began to glow. A voice, distorted and echoing, rumbled out, like the breaking of sea ice and the grinding of old bones.

**_Rise, son of Winter, son of Wolves. Arise, and serve your King._ **

“I serve!” Benjen rasped, and slowly sat up. He slid from the altar, kneeling before his new master. 

**_Long have I lain dormant. But the Winds of Winter blow once more. Tell me. What of the Dragon Kings? What of the realms of Men?_ **

“The dragons are dead, my king. Slain by their own brothers. The blood of the dragon is scattered, lost, with only a single boy and girl child across the sea still bearing it,” Benjen replied. Somewhere, deep within him, the soul of Benjen Stark screamed in agony and torment. But his mind, his body, and what little remained of his will, was commanded by the will of the Night King, trapped within the cursed runeblade, and bound to the Frozen Throne. 

**_Then our time has come. The Witch trapped me for 300 years, but now, her power wanes. She yet defies me, but she shall kneel, or be slain, then rise and serve again._ **

Benjen looked up, his eyes glowing with a terrible blue light. “Yes, my king. What are your orders?”

**_You shall be the general of my armies, Benjen Stark: My Hand. You shall rally the forces of Winter, and march upon the realms of men. This time, we shall tear down their Wall, and not even the Witch or the Dragons can stop me._ **

“As you command, so I obey,” Benjen rasped, rising. 

So spoke Arthas Menathil, the Kinslayer, Lord of the Others, and the Night’s King. 

And so would Benjen Stark, Hand of Death, would do.

The Lich King of the Others raised his accursed blade, pointing it south.  **_Frostmourne Hungers._ **

_ Cast of Characters _

_ OC, Donut Steel as; The High Septon  _

_ Cecily as; Aqua’s bestie  _

_ Zesta as; More or less himself _

_ Benjen Stark as; High Lord Darion Mograine _

_ And introducing; _

_   
_ _ Arthas Menathil as the Night’s King _

_ And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire in: _

**_WRATH OF THE LICH KING: KEFKA’S BOOGALOO EDITION_ **


	18. This Goddess Must Be Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westeros may have decided to go slightly mad, but amidst the chaos, one man stands up and shouts "STOP BEING SO SILLY."
> 
> Let me know how that works out for you, Stannis.

_ GEICO: 15 minutes could save you 15% or more on your Act of Goddess insurance. Not responsible for demonic acts, Geico is only available in non-fantasy realms.  _

_ Chapter 17: This Goddess Must Be Crazy _

_ Look, I can do in-jokes too, ok?  _

The sun was just peaking over the horizon as Megumin stole out of the Tower of the Hand, sneaking past the guards out of a servants’ door along with Chomusuke, then dashing for the Red Keep as fast as she could. She was dressed in what she considered to be “appropriate” dress for the occasion: a boy's tunic and tights, stolen from one of the page boys that served her father. It galled her slightly that they fit nearly perfectly, but would have been awkward on her sister. Still, for today’s mission, she would have to pass for a boy anyway. 

Sneaking across the courtyard, Megumin made her way into the Red Keep, through side passages and servants’ halls to her destination. She had to question a few servants to get the door right, but when she did, she quickly pounded on it, heedless of the still early hour.

  
After only a few seconds of banging, the door jerked open, and a girl a year or two older than Megumin glared at her. She had a similar style of hair as Megumin; short and messy, though she was dressed in a gown with a purple badge bearing a silver sword and falling star. “What?” 

  
“I’m here to be a squire! Why are you wearing a dress, isn’t Darkness going to fight in the melee?!” Megumin demanded. 

  
The other girl rolled her eyes. “Oh please. As if we could get away with THAT again. No. Go away. And we don’t need any squires.”

“Oh, come on, Chris! You were a squire, I saw it!” Megumin whined. “Please!? I’ve wanted to be a knight my entire life! Ser Darkness is the perfect mentor for me!” 

Chris opened her mouth to argue, but Darkness’s voice came from inside. “Chris? Who is it? Send them away, we’re busy!”

  
As Chris turned to answer her mistress, Megumin slammed the door in her face and slipped inside as the other girl let out several potent oaths that were highly inappropriate for a lady of her station. But then again, so was squiring, so Chris’s idea of proper behavior were about as accurate as Megumin’s. 

“My lady!” Megumin gasped, dropping to her knees and offering her sword to the startled Margaery Tyrell. “I have come to offer my service as your squire! I know I can aide you in triumphing over those stupid oafs in the melee today!” 

“Er, my father and grandmother have strictly forbidden me from fighting in the melee today,” Darkness admitted. “I… I cannot violate their will, though I would dearly love to throw myself into battle, battered and attacked on every side by those powerful, dangerous men, used as their training dummy and-”

Chris let out a cough and shut the door. “You’re freaking her out, Darkness.”

  
Indeed, Megumin had looked up, gaping in shock and horror at Darkness, who flushed. However, Megumin’s outrage turned out to be unrelated to the blatant perversion. 

  
“Why are you wearing a dress!? You’re a knight! Knight’s dont wear dresses!” Megumin snarled, and jumped up to try to haul Darkness out of her green gown.

The older girl squawked, then groaned slightly as Megumin tried to wrestle her. Then, she sighed and simply picked Megumin up with one hand, holding her by her tunic collar as Megumin squirmed in outrage. “You’re simply not going to do. I could never be satisfied by a pipsqueak like you, boy.”

“I’M NOT A BOY, I’M A GIRL!” Megumin ranted. “CAN’T YOU TELL WHO I AM!?” 

Darkness blinked, then started and dropped Megumin, who landed on all fours, growling. Chomuskue, who had let herself into the room (which raised questions about how she’d opened the door), let out a sigh and rolled her eyes as she sat and waited patiently. So long as her mistress was not in mortal peril, the wolf would allow her to reap what she sowed. 

“Lady Stark?” Darkness asked suspiciously.

“Who else has red eyes, huh?!” Megumin demanded, jumping to her feet. “Only the sisters of the House of Stark possess the sign of the Crimson Demon! Now, are you going to let me be your squire or not?!”

“I have no need of a squire this day, as I said,” Darkness told Megumin, who wilted. But then, the older girl gave her a mischievous grin. “However, I know of another who could use your services.”

  
“Well, it won’t be as cool as fighting for a Lady Knight, but I suppose I could help a smelly guy if he’s not too dumb,” Megumin grumbled. However, when she was led to the side chamber, Megumin let out a gasp of delight. 

“Er, hello,” said the woman who was half dressed in plate, and already wearing the quilted underarmor of a knight. She was seated, and blushing slightly. “Greetings, Lady Stark. I am Brienne of Tarth. Um, one of Lady Mar-that is, Darkness’s handmaidens.”

“This is so cool!” Megumin squealed, rushing over to help put on the rest of the armor. She knew mostly what to do, having been observing Mikken the smith for most of her life. “Two lady knights! And me and Chris are girls too! We can form our own sisterhood of the sword, and go on adventures, and fight monsters and slay bandits, and write our tale of glory in BLOOD!” 

“Ah, Lady Stark, we are not-”

“Don’t call me Lady!” Megumin said in exasperation as she fiddled with the armor. Chris came over to help her, looking amused. “I’m not a lady! That’s Yunyun’s job! I’m going to be a knight, like you Ser Brienne! Call me Megumin.”

  
“Very well, Megumin. But, you see, Darkness and I are not knights. I am merely one of her ladies in waiting, as is Chris. We merely, um, moonlight as warriors.”

“And my father has sternly forbidden me from taking up the sword to participate in further tourneys,” Darkness admitted. “I shall try to convince him to allow me to walk the path of the warrior, but my grandmother warned me he would react so if he found me in my armor.”

“Well, how’d you get the armor anyway?” Megumin asked, quickly figuring out how to adjust the straps as Chris and Brienne helped her. 

“That would be Lady Olenna. She supplied us with arms in secret,” Brienne explained. “In fact, she heard that I had trained as a knight, and sent for me to wait up on Darkness. I had thought I would be trapped as a maid in skirts, but it seems we both share the same dream.”

Armoring completed, Brienne stood, showing she was half a hand taller than even Darkness. Unlike the daughter of Highgarden, the Lady of Tarth was not nearly as lovely, having a flat chest, crooked protruding teeth, and a broad nose that had been broken more than once. 

Still, Megumin didn’t care, and saw her as one of the most amazing people she had ever met, up there with Dacey Mormont or even Ser Barristan Selmy. Dacey was considered attractive by most men of the North, and not only because she was the heir to Bear Island. She was equally at home in an evening gown and chain mail, and had once slew two wildling raiders in a single blow with her mace. 

“Well, if they won’t let you be knights, you come talk to my dad,” Megumin said firmly. “He’s letting me train to be a knight. I practice every day with Serio and Kazuma. I, um, well, I’m not very big, so I don’t know if I could wear all that armor. But I can be a Water Dancer! I’m really good with Chunchumaru!” She held up her sword to Brienne, who took the offered blade and draw it, testing the balance

Though Chunchumaru was a rapier with a two and a half foot blade, in the massive hands of Brienne, he seemed little more than a large knife. Still, Brienne gave a few experimental flicks and thrusts, then nodded and passed the sword back to Megumin. “It has good balance. But surely the Hand would balk at having two women in his service as armsmen.

“Nuh-uh. Dad says Lady Mormont can best any Southron and most Northmen in a fight, and Dacey’s just as good!” Megumin argued. “Besides, you saved Robb, so he owes you!” 

“Sounds like a better deal then we get here, boss,” Chris sighed, looking down at her dress. She made a face. “It’s cold as tits up in the North though, and a long way from Starfall too. But, don’t you follow the Old Gods up North?”

When Megumin nodded, Chris gave a wicked grin. “Well. Then maybe  _ she  _ would leave me alone for once.” Then Chris gave Megumin a suspicious look. “What about Aqua, though? She was with you yesterday.”

The other three turned to look at Chris, and Megumin tilted her head to one side. “Aqua? You mean, the Goddess of Water? No, but we had Septa Cecily and Mizu with us. I think Mizu’s a septa, but she’s kinda weird. So is Cecily though.”

“Huh? Are you sure? I could have sworn that was Aqua throwing around all that Divine Magic,” Chris said with a frown. 

  
“You could see that too?!” Megumin gasped. “I thought it was just me and Yunyun! You see, we Starks have mystical abilities, and our eyes grant us superior vision, along with a variety of other phenomenal cosmic powers the likes of which would make most mortals TREMBLE in terror!” 

Chris smirked. “Yeah? Bet mine are cooler.”

“Chris…” Darkness said, and Brienne took half a step forward.

“Oh, it’s fine. I think she’s like you anyway, Darkness,” Chris said. She pointed at Megumin. “Very well. I challenge you to a demonstration of your mystical powers!”

“Ha! Very well, I accept! I have been honing my abilities and-”

  
“Lurk!” Chris cried, and fell into a low stance. She went a little blurry, which made Megumin cock her head to one side. She watched as Chris tiptoed to her side, reaching for Megumin’s coin pouch.

“Hey!” Megumin snapped, slapping the hand away. “That’s not magic, you’re just stealing!” 

Chris jerked back, and the odd blurriness faded. “What?! You could SEE me?!”

“Duh. You just… I dunno. It was like the sun was in my eyes or something, you were kinda hard to see,” Megumin said with a shrug. However, Darkness and Brienne let out a gasp.

  
“She does have strange powers!” Darkness muttered, stepping around to eye Megumin. “Her eyes! She can see through Chris’s Lurk!” 

“Wait, do you all have special powers?” Megumin asked suspiciously. She wasn’t sure if the blurry thing had just been a trick or not, but, as a chuunibyou at heart, she was fully willing to believe it had been an amazing magical ability that only her superior skills and dark powers had defeated. Instead of the more logical explanation that these three ladies were mocking her. 

Fortunately for Megumin, ever since the arrival of the Seven Goddesses, the world seemed to have decided it ran on moon logic. Megumin being there was not helping the case for sanity. 

“She does,” Chris said pointing to Darkness. “Brienne’s just really strong and tough.”

“I have attempted to learn some of Chris and Darknesses abilities, but it seems I cannot manage to master them,” Brienne said, looking a bit forlorn. “Still, I am thankful to the goddesses that I have found two companions who are ever faithful in their support of me.”

“I promise to be your faithful squire, Ser Brienne!” Megumin vowed eagerly. This was going to be  _ great _ .

======================================================================

Some distance away on the tourney grounds, Lord Eddard Stark was having an early morning meeting himself, having trekked out to them not long after dawn. He made for the tent bearing the symbol of the Stag of Stannis’s cadet branch of House Baratheon, which was nearly identical to Robert’s own banner, save it’s stag did not bear a crown, and was smaller in size on the banner. 

The guards let Eddard into Stannis’s tent, and he found the king’s brother sitting at a small table, reading a familiar large tome. 

“Ah, Lord Stark.” Stannis stood, giving a slight bow. “Welcome. Have you broken your fast?” 

“I have not,” Eddard said, and Stannis motioned for him to take a seat, calling for food and drink. Ale, warm bread, and some bacon and fried eggs along with fruit were soon served, and Eddard took a quick bite, though he noticed that Stannis ignored his food. 

  
“I am grateful you agreed to meet with me this morning, Lord Eddard, and on such short notice,” Stannis said, his tone gruff and brisk. 

“We have missed you at council, Lord Stannis. I have received queer reports from Claire Greyjoy of late. What are these letters of Marque she talks of, and why has she been arranging for so-called ‘prize’ ships to be delivered to the crown?”

“The girl is mad, but effective. She’s provided a fair bit of income to the realm, as well as keeping those damn Lyseni and Braavosi pirates at bay,” Stannis answered. “Her ship is like nothing I’ve ever seen, save for the one she’s launched last year and the other that’s been laid down. She’s building a navy, Stark, and I am not sure as to her loyalty. She seems loyal to the crown, referring to her father only coldly. Still, she seems to resent Robert, and myself. But I did not ask you here to discuss my role as Master of Ships.”

“Oh?” Eddard set down his mug of ale, studying Stannis. He was a stern man, nearly as tall as Robert and as broad in the shoulder, but going bald and with none of the fat Robert bore. He was also a man who when he spoke, was worth heeding, being an excellent battle commander and a man of honor.

“Have you seen the like of this book before?” Stannis asked, tapping his copy of Maester Mallon’s tome. 

“I have a copy of it in my office. It makes for ponderous reading,” Eddard replied. “But Jon Arryn seemed to place some import on it before his death. Do you know why?”

“I do,” Stannis said, nodding curtly. He opened the book, turning it to a page that had been marked with a bit of string. “Look here, Stark. What do you make of this?”

Eddard glanced over the page, one that described the marriage of a Baratheon maid to that of a Lannister man. “I have read it, but I confess, I do not understand the import.”

“I see. What of this?” Stannis flipped to another page, this one detailing the union and issue of another Baratheon and Lannister, this time with the lord and lady reversed.

Eddard read it more carefully, brow furrowing. “I confess, what knowledge that is locked within these pages eludes me.”

  
“Black hair,” Stannis pronounced. 

Eddard looked up, frowning. “Yes. So it would seem. The children favored their father.”

  
“And yet, in the other, their mother. I have written down several others. Look them over. We shall talk again once you have. I know you have little love of Lannisters, Stark. Or at least, I had thought so.”

  
“It is true there has been enmity between our houses, but Robert seems to seek to mend it with the union of his son and my daughter,” Eddard said.

Stannis snorted at that. “Does he? Or does the Lannister woman?”

“Cersei seems to find the union agreeable as well,” Eddard agreed, and Stannis’s eyes narrowed.

  
“Cersei. You seem to have grown close to that lioness, Stark. Have a care. Lions have been known to hunt wolves.”

“I do not take your meaning, Lord Stannis, but I find your tone disagreeable,” Eddard said, feeling his gall rising.

“Be at peace, Stark. I seek to save you, not damn you. We have time. But Robert would not listen to me. Perhaps he will you,” Stannis growled. 

“You have been talking to Lord Baelish?” Eddard asked, his mind racing. 

  
“I have. I mislike the man as much as you, Stark. But he is clever.”

“Too clever,” Eddard said with a sigh. “Thank you for the food and thought, Lord Stannis. May we expect you at council after the tourney?”

  
“Mayhaps. I shall stay a few more days at least,” Stannis agreed. 

Eddard nodded, then ducked out of the tent, then paused, surprised to see Kazuma standing there. 

“Hey, um, you seen Megumin?” the boy asked, looking a bit nervous. “She wasn’t at the tower.”

“No,” Eddard groaned. “But I am certain she will turn up soon. She would not miss the melee. Or your own performance in the archery competition.”

  
“Yeah.” Kazuma poked his head into the tent, ignoring the guards. “Yo, Uncle Stan, you bring my little sis with you? Kinda hoping we could meet instead of just writing letters…”

“Begone, boy! I would not trouble my daughter with your presence.”

“Good freaking morning to you too, pal,” Kazuma muttered, withdrawing and making a face. “Would it kill him to let poor Lean out once in a while? She says she isn’t even sick…”

The prince turned to Eddard, and gave him a nervous smile. “So. Dad’s in the melee today. You think he, er, he’ll do OK?”

“I see no reason not to believe he shall,” Eddard said, thinking back to who exactly had suggested Robert participate. He prayed she was gone, because if-

“Hey, hey Kazuma! Come here! I wanna buy some honey cakes, but I forgot my wallet!” 

Eddard’s head snapped around, and there she was, Cecily hovering nervously in the background, along with Yunyun, who looked excited just to be out having fun with friends.

“M-my lady, I can purchase the food for you!” Cecily offered, looking desperate.

  
“Nah, that’s Kazuma’s job. He’s rich and stuff, he can afford it,” the blue-haired walking disaster said dismissively. Though she called herself Mizu, Eddard had no doubt that her true identity was that of Aqua, one of the Seven, Goddess of Water. And, as Eddard knew from prior experience, a very alien being. 

“I’m gonna wind up in debt with the way you’re spending it. Didn’t you eat?” Kazuma demanded, taking out his purse and withdrawing a few coins. 

“Yeah, but I’m hungry again! I only get to use this body every so often you know, gotta put it through its paces while I can!” Aqua laughed, grabbing the money out of Kazuma’s hands and skipping off. She returned a moment later, pressing a honey cake into Eddard’s hands. “Thanks for letting me stay at your house! And for taking good care of my friends. Megumin and Yunyun have never looked so happy! You’re a good dad.” 

  
And then, the goddess stood on her tiptoes, stretching up to kiss Eddard lightly on the cheek. He felt stunned, touching his cheek as Aqua giggled, turning away from Eddard.

“Come on! Let’s go exploring!” Aqua took Kazuma’s hand, grabbed Yunyun as well, and led them off through the tourney.

“I’ll keep an eye on ‘em, boss!” Cecily promised. “Sorry about Megumin! I was busy!” Then the scepta ran off after her goddess, still looking about half a step from the edge of madness. Which, really, wasn’t that unusual for an Axis cultist, come to think of it. 

Eddard made his way to the royal pavilion, where he found Cersei sitting in the shade of an awning, eyeing a tent from which voluble swearing could be heard. 

“Think my lord husband will fit into his armor after all?” Cersei asked as Eddard took a seat across from her. 

“I suspect he will. Did Rain manage to find a breastplate stretcher?”

Cersei frowned, then glanced around. She leaned close to Eddard, dropping her voice. “I’ve suspected something for some time now, as Rain is not a traditional Lannister name. But I spoke to the girl last night: she has odd powers as well. She did indeed stretch Robert’s breastplate when her brother asked. I think she’s another Child of Destiny.”

“What does it mean, though?” Eddard asked, feeling desperate. “Why has this goddess become so active now? Iris Targaryen is the chosen of Athena, named the Stormborn of our generation. Our children are the chosen of Aqua. Why? Do the goddesses themselves intend to go to war?”

“We can only pray it is not so,” Cersei said, shuddering slightly. She raised her voice. “Food and drink for the Hand and myself!” 

“Hi uncle!” Myrcella said, coming over bearing her cat. “Daddy’s gonna fight today! Are you?”

“As the games are in my honor, it would not be proper,” Eddard told the girl. He did not say he thought it improper for Robert to fight, as he was the king, not to mention the considerable danger he could be in if an assassin was amidst the field. However, what a goddess commanded, men must do. 

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you and daddy to fight, you should be friends like Yunyun says,” Myrcella said, nodding sagely. “Say hello, Lion-O.”

  
The cat let out a meow, then tried to wiggle out of his mistress’s grasp. 

“No! Bad kitty! Come on!” Myrcella skipped away, taking her anxious pet with her. 

As Eddard sat eating with Cersei, several horses rode up with dust clad travelers on their back. 

“I return!” Tyrion Lannister proclaimed, giving Eddard and Cersei a lopsided grin. “And what do I find? My sister, and Eddard Stark, sitting at the table as old friends! Yunyun would be proud.”

“Brother,” Cersei said, nodding. “Do you require refreshment?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. We rode through most of the night, for a little bird told me that my nephew was to participate in the archery contest this day, and I could not very well miss it,” Tyrion said, groaning as a servant helped him from his saddle. A chair was given to Tyrion, and he sagged into it, sighing in relief.

“Your lady wife sends her regards, Lord Stark,” Tyrion said once he had drank some wine. “She is doing well, last I saw her, though that is some six weeks ago. I imagine she is great with child by now. A son, they say.”

“We were told it would be such,” Eddard said, forgetting himself slightly. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m certain you shall treasure your newest offspring. A pity you cannot return home to be there for the birth,” Tyrion said, nibbling at a bit of meat pie. 

Cersei eyed Eddard, but he shook his head. “Not her. My own goddess spoke to me of this child’s birth.”

  
“They do that in the North, do they? Cersei always did claim that Kazuma was blessed by the Goddesses. Perhaps she is even right. But that is not what I wished to speak to you of, Lord Stark. As you know, I left to visit the end of the world, as it were. I did indeed manage to piss off the Wall, though it was less satisfying than you might think.”

“Did you now?” Eddard asked, not bothering to hide his amusement at the dwarfs' words. 

  
Cersei blanched and made as if to rise, but Tyrion waved her back. “Oh do relax sister. That is by far the least grim thing I have to talk about. It seems that the grumpkins and snarks we made mock of as children are more real than I ever imagined. Even as a boy,” Tyrion said, his face taking on a haunted cast. 

Eddard immediately turned grim. “The Others. The Brothers spoke to you of them?”

  
“They did more than that. They brought back a wight that was only half dead, though it soon stilled once it was on our side of the Wall. I had a jar with a twitching hand, but once we left the North it dissolved to goo, and I burned the foul thing.” Tyrion shuddered, and looked faintly ill.

“The Others? Wights? You tell bedtime stories, brother,” Cersei said with a derisive sneer.

“He does not,” Eddard said softly. “The dead made it all the way to the Wall? That has not happened in generations. Not since the days of Aegon and the Kinslayer’s battle.”

Cersei jerked, spinning to face Eddard, her eyes wide. “But-”

“He speaks true, sister,” Tyrion whispered, leaning forward on the table, half rising in his chair to do so. “I would not have believed it myself, but...I saw one. A White Walker. Perhaps it was a trick of mine eyes, but from atop the wall, I beheld a shimmering white shape in ghostly armor. I thought I could feel it’s gaze eating into my soul.”

“They cannot… they are children’s stories. The Kinslayer was only a madman who practiced black magics. He was destroyed, and the secrets of necromancy lost with him,” Cersei stammered. 

“And yet, no man will go within ten leagues of Harrenhal to this day, despite the keep being intact, and the city unlooted,” Tyrion argued. “We know the dead walk there, sister. We simply do not speak of it.”

“But Arthas, he-”

  
Eddard reached out, fast as a striking serpent, and put a hand to Cersei’s mouth.

“Do not speak that name,” he said softly but firmly, the queen looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Not even here, in the south. It is an ill thing. A cursed thing. Call him something else. Azor Ahai. The Kinslayer. The Night’s King. But do not speak that name. It is accursed.”

Cersei jerked a nod, and Eddard removed his hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “The Others stir. The dead wake near the wall. Cersei… our children. If they are what we believe…”

  
Tyrion’s eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips, looking back and forth. “What is it you suspect? I heard rumors. A cataclysmic event on the King’s Road, a prince fleeing with his lady. What has happened?”

Eddard didn’t speak, instead, he looked behind Tyrion, and nodded. “Look, and tell me, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion spun, just in time to see Aqua, Kazuma, and Yunyun hurry over, Cecily hot on their heels still.

  
“Hey guys, what’s up!” Aqua laughed. She smiled at Tyrion. “Oh hey, wasn’t sure you’d make it! Good to see you? How’re your legs?”

Tyrion didn’t answer, only gaping at Aqua, his eyes very wide.

“They hurt, huh? Well, tell you what. You’re Kazuma’s favorite, right?”

  
“Tyrion’s the best,” Kazuma agreed.

“Well, you were made the way you are for a reason, Tyrion. I know it’s hard to believe, but...well. The goddess always have a plan, eh? Sorry about your mom, but, well...we can only do so much. But I’ll bend the rules for you, just a little.” 

Then, Aqua reached out, taking Tyrion’s trembling hands in her own. “Heal.”

A blue glow, visible even to Eddard appeared briefly around the goddess and the dwarf, and Tyrion gasped.

  
“There. That should help! Straightened things out a bit, so to speak. If you get problems, talk to Cecily! Though, um, not for a bit. Depends on how things work out. Later! Come on, Kazuma, let’s go see if we can find the others! I wanna say hi to Chris, I haven’t seen her in practically forever!” 

“Good to see you again, uncle,” Kazuma said, giving Tryion a slap on the back.

“Glad you made it safe!” Yunyun said with a smile and wave. “Bye! Tell me about mom and Komekko and Rickon and Jon later!”

The children ran off again, leaving the three adults in silence. Tyrion slowly eased himself out of his seat, and stood. He was a bit taller now, though he was the same size, as his legs and back seemed to have been fixed. 

“How… she is…” Tyrion swallowed, looking up at Eddard, his mismatched eyes wide with near panic. “The goddess?”

“Have some wine, Tyrion,” Cersei sighed, pouring out a goblet and passing it to her brother. “And welcome to our little club. Now you know why I’m always so faithful to offer devotion to the Joyful One.”

Tyrion guzzled the wine, then hopped back into his seat, his hands trembling slightly. “How did… she really did come to you, then?”

“And Catelyn and I as well. Twice,” Eddard said quietly. “There are others, we suspect. Cecily knows more than she has told me. I will have to question her.”

“Well. And here I thought I had dire news,” Tyrion chuckled. Then he paused, frowning. “No… they are related, aren’t they? If evil rises… then the Children of Destiny will rise to oppose it. Is that not in the Book of Hope?”

“I do not know your Southron scriptures well, but I believe that may well be the case.” Eddard felt sick, and bent his head, and Cersei looked on the verge of tears. “But… they are my children. And Kazuma… he is a boy. He cannot, must not… not yet.”

“No, even the Old Bear thought we had time yet,” Tyrion said gently. “We will train them, prepare them. And, when the time comes, fight beside them. Well, you shall, Lord Stark. I do not see myself, even now, as one who belongs in the line of battle.”

“Thank you, Tyrion,” Eddard whispered, fighting back tears of his own. “I pray that we shall be ready.”

  
Just then, Robert emerged, clad head to toe in shining plate. “Ha! Think I’m fat now? This body is a Temple to Athena! Just you watch, I’ll claim the victor's crown yet! Ah, Tyrion, good! You’re here to see my triumph! Well, come along then! Can’t very well start the melee without the victor!”

The king laughed and strode away, his warhammer resetting on the pauldron of his golden armor. 

Cersei watched him go, a sneer on her lips. “And you think he shall lead us to victory, Eddard?”

“Robert may not be a good king in peace time. But in War?” Eddard stood, a smile on his lips again. “In war, Cersei, there is no better man to lead us.”

_ Cast of Characters _

_   
_ _ Bobby B as;  _ [ _ *air horns*  _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9NImmFro9I) _ MEME KING _

_ Stan the Man Baratheon as; Stop Having Fun Guy _

_ Aqua as; Trouble incarnate  _

_   
_ _ Chris the Thief as; Edric Dayne  _

_ Tyrion as; I’M BACK BITCHES _

_ Cersei as; Not sure if becoming a better person or just better at hiding evil side _

_ And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as, this Monday… _

_   
_ _ The people need a king.  _

_ And one man, shall rise to the challenge _

_ RIGHT HERE ON MONDAY NIGHT RAW! _

_ BOBBY B! FIVE TIME WRESTLE MANIA CHAMPION RETURNS TO THE RING, ONE NIGHT ONLY! _

_ WITNESS THE SHEER BRUTALITY OF THE STORM STAG HIMSELF AS HE LEAVES IT ALL ON THE FIELD _

_ ONLY ON PAY PER VIEW! _

Hestia hurried to the couch, flipping on the TV. Satella was sitting in the corner, looking down at her phone and furiously texting. “Rista! Athena! She did it! Our show’s starting!” 

There was the pounding of feet, and Ristarte, Goddess of Healing, slid across the marble floor on her socks, then dove into her seat, eagerly leaning forward to watch. She had her hair up in a messy bun, and was dressed in sweatpants and one of Seiya’s old shirts tied up with a rubber band, and decidedly did not look godly in the slightest. 

Athena was a bit more stately in her arrival, but she was walking just a bit too fast to be truly dignified, and sat down on the overstuffed old couch next to Hestia. She had on jeans and a T-Shirt with “TRIDENT ‘83!!” on it, showing a picture of Robert and Rhaegar fighting in the water and covered in mud. They hadn’t actually been bare chested and wearing luchador masks in reality, but Eris hadn’t let that get in the way of merchandising. 

“Where’s Eris, she’d love this,” Hestia asked, taking a sip out of her extra large cup of margarita through a brightly colored straw. Once more, Hestia was pregnant, and had on a somewhat shapeless dress that had multiple stains on it. 

“I dunno. Thanks for letting us crash at your place, Athena,” Rista said, giving the Goddess of Battle a big smile. “At least here we don’t have to worry about a bunch of munchkins underfoot.”

“Yeah, we left Bell and Seiya with the kids,” Hestia agreed. “Be nice to get some time with the ladies.”

“Is Madoka coming?” Satella asked, finally putting away her phone and looking up. It was a pain to get her away from her latest lover of choice, but the other goddesses agreed it was time they had another girls night out.

“She’s picking up the food,” Athena answered. There was a knock at the door just then. “Must be her now.”

Instead of Madoka though, Athena found Holo waiting at the threshold, carrying a tray of fresh forest fruits. Unlike the other goddesses, Holo wore the garb of Westeros, being limited only to that planet, but her dress was brightly colored and fit the casual air. “Greetings. I was told there was a ‘girls night?’”

“Of course! Come on in. You didn’t tell Nyarko, right?” Athena asked, stepping aside. 

Holo wrinkled her nose. “I would prefer not to spend my time being molested, thank you very much. I did not inform her.”

“Hold the door! Pizza, coming through!” Makoka called as she descended on glowing wings. She was dressed casually as well, and had on shorts and a tank top. “Hey, you made it, Holo! Great! About time we brought you into the pantheon. Has to get lonely all by yourself.”

“I am considering your overtures. But a breaking of bread together seems an appropriate beginning,” the Wise Wolf said as she sniffed. Her tail began to wag slightly as they went inside. “Did you get meat lovers? I do so adore this ‘pizza’.”

“Of course! And a hawaiian style for you, Satella,” Madoka said, passing a steaming box over to the Goddess of Death. The other goddesses made various faces, but then laughed at their friend when she stuck her tongue out.

Not long after, Eris arrived, bearing several bottles of wine and soda, dressed in a skirt and tube top. “Sorry I’m late! Someone finally managed to defeat Belzerg’s latest Devil King.”

“Don’t sweat it, have some pizza,” Madoka said, motioning for Eris to take a seat. 

“Shh! It’s starting!” Athena shushed, as the knights of Westeros assembled for the melee.

“Ok, now, Satella, remember. Nobody dies in this one,” Ristarte lectured, leaning back on the couch and taking a large bite of pizza. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll turn a blind eye for now,” Satella sighed. “But I do get them later, right?”

“You always do eventually,” Madoka giggled. “Shhh! There he is!” 

  
Robert Baratheon in his golden plate on an enormous horse appeared on screen, and the goddesses squealed in delight. 

  
“BOBBY B!” 

Truely, the goddesses work in mysterious ways. 

_ Presenting: _

_ Satella, the Witch of Envy from Re:Zero as: The Stranger _

_ Madoka Kami as from Madoka Magica as: The Father _

_ Ristarte from Cautious Hero as: The Crone _

_ Hestia from Danmachi as: The Mother _

_ And the cast of a Song of Ice and Fire on SMACKDOWN VS RAW _


	19. The Ballad of Bobby B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever hear the tale of Bobby B the Wide? It's not a tale a Targaryen would tell you.

_Brought to you by:_ _SUPER SMASH BROTHERS, MEEEEEELLLEEEEEE_ _E! A Song of Ice and Fire edition. No, you shut up about there being too many swordsmen. Barristan Selmy is perfectly balanced._

_Chapter 18: The Ballad of Bobby B_

Standing with Brienne's shield, Megumin was giddy with joy. All around her, knights and their squires were preparing for the grand melee, which was to take place in a large grassy area on the tourney grounds, surrounded by various boxes for the nobles, and roped off sections for the commons to stand in.

"Your shield, Ser," Megumin said, passing the shield with the quartered sun and moon blazon of House Tarth up to Brienne.

Brienne nodded, taking up the shield and shifting slightly in her saddle. She bore a heavy blunted sword in one hand, a hand-and-a-half-blade that could be used either in one or both hands, though in Brienne's grip it seemed to be a simple arming sword.

"You'll win, just like Darkness!" Megumin whispered excitedly. In truth, Brienne was at a disadvantage, as she was going in with no alliances. While there would be only a single victor in the melee, the best strategy was to enter with friends or members of your own house, and work together to defeat foes. Usually, even large teams would be worn down to one or two, but occasionally they would endure and split the champions purse, or turn on one another and fight to the last.

"As long as I acquit myself nobly, I shall prove that a woman is just as capable as a man in battle," Brienne answered in a low voice. Megumin grinned and nodded, stepping back. She herself had on a Stark Direwolf badge. It was something she'd had to whip up, so it was a bit crude, but she was proud to represent her house as a squire for Brienne.

Brienne looked to where King Robert sat his horse with his own squires, resplendent in his golden armor. "Though I fear that even I cannot hope to best Robert Baratheon."

"He's old, fat, and lazy. Kick his ass!" Megumin ordered, to Brienne's mortification.

However, there was no further time to debate as the horns blared, and the riders spurred their mounts into the arena, yelling war cries of their house. Brienne bellowed wordlessly, and within a mere minute, used her sword to knock Ser Emmon Frey clean off his horse. The other Frey riders came after Brienne, all five of them with the blue Towers blazon of the Twins.

At first, Megumin feared Brienne would be surrounded and overwhelmed, but she managed to fight off Ser Hosteen and Ser Theo, driving them both back. For a moment, it looked as though Brienne would fight her way to freedom, only for Danwell and Jared Frey to cut her off. There was a furious exchange of blows, and Megumin groaned as Brienne was jarred, and nearly knocked off her horse.

Then, a golden charger crashed into the melee. "YOU COWARDS! NOT LATE WHEN YOU'VE THE ADVANTAGE, ARE YOU!?"

Robert Baratheon, with Ser Boros Blount and Jamie Lannister of his Kingsguard, rolled over the Freys like an oncoming tide. He knocked two from the saddle with his warhammer, while Jamie and Boros accounted for another each. Brienne quickly dealt with Ser Theo, leaving the Freys all unhorsed on the ground.

"YIELD, YOU MISERABLE DOGS!" Robert roared, and the Freys raised a hand in surrender and supplication.

Brienne swung her mount to face Robert, but the king raised his visor. "You fight well, Tarth. I did not think to see one of your house here. Come! Ride with me to glory! I can always use a man with grit at my side."

Brienne nodded silently, raising her sword in salute.

"Ha! Come, Jamie! I've a mind to ruin the day of those damn Redwynes next! I may have forgiven the bastards for siding with the Targaryens, but I haven't forgotten!" Robert roared with laughter, spurring his mouth forward, his Kingsguard and Brienne guarding his flanks.

Megumin went to negotiate prices with the Frey squires, as Brienne would have a share in their mounts and armor they would have to ransom, only for a hand to fall on her shoulder. She looked up to see a very annoyed looking Robb scowling at her.

"What, little sister, do you think you are doing?"

"Squiring," Megumin answered. "Duh."

"I suppose I deserved that," Robb chuckled, but then he looked grim again. "Father is frantic. Megumin, what possessed you to do this?"

"Because Brienne and Darkness are going to be knights, and so am I!" She declared, sticking out her chin. "And you can't stop me."

"I rather think I can," Robb said, his tone amused as he took a step forward.

"W-wait! Brienne doesn't have another squire! She needs me! Please, Robb, you have to let me help her! This is my dream! I've always wanted to be a knight, you know that!" Megumin begged.

Robb hesitated, glancing out at the field. "This Brienne… she is a friend of Margaery's?"

"Don't call her that, she hates that name," Megumin snapped, planting her hands on her hips as she rapidly forgot her recalcitrance.

"Does she?" Robb shifted uneasily. "To be saved by a woman… but she seems to be quite the warrior."

"I'm going to make dad accept her as one of his sworn swords," Megumin sniffed.

That got Robb to laugh. "I suppose that would be your goal. And this Brienne?"

"She's the Tarth rider, with Robert," Megumin said, pointing out at the field, just as Brienne clubbed Horas Redwyne out of his saddle.

"She's good," Robb mused. "As good as Darkness?"

"Well, she hasn't won yet," Megumin said smugly. "But I think she will."

"By rights I should drag you back to father by force. Kazuma is looking for you as well," Robb said, nodding to the royal box.

Megumin flushed. "Um, tell him I'm striking a blow for Gender Equality, and that one day his queen shall be a knight herself, and I'll be a member of his Kingsguard."

"You realize the brothers of the Kingsguard are sworn to lifelong celibacy, don't you?" Robb asked in amusement.

"Well, if Kazuma is king, he can change the rules," Megumin stated, as if it were obvious.

"I suppose he could," Robb agreed, a small smile on his lips. "Very well. Chomusuke, you'll keep an eye on her, won't you?"

The direwolf, who was currently doing her very best wolfhound impression, sneezed and looked at Robb with an expression that clearly communicated, "What do you think I've been doing?"

Robb looked to Greywind, who was about the size of a pony currently. The other wolf nodded, wagging his tail in approval. "Well, if the wolves have granted you their blessing, I suppose I shall as well. Best of luck, Squire Stark."

"Thanks Robb! You won't regret it!" Megumin promised. Then she rolled up her sleeves and went to bully the Frey squires, who would soon learn the futility of defying the Foremost Genius of the House of Stark.

Watching from the royal box, Kazuma licked his lips, his eyes following his father the king. His hands were balled into fists, and every so often he'd look to his side, where Megumin should have been. A large part of them wanted to go look for her, but an even bigger part wanted to see his dad do what he was legendary for: Break some heads.

So far, the melee had been a chaotic mess, but Robert and his allies had soon proven that while the king may have gotten a bit large in the belly, he could still swing his warhammer as well as the day he'd caved in Rhaegar's skull. He was relentless, clashing again and again with his foes, his kingsguard and the Knight of Tarth at his heels.

Beside Kazuma, Mizu was cheering wildly for the king, providing a variety of colorful advice to him. "SWEEP THE LEG, BOBBY B! SWEEP THE LEG!"

"Kick 'em in the balls, daddy!" Myrcella and Tommen were shrieking, over and over again, and Robert did indeed do just that several times when he dismounted to fight on foot, as the king had no compunctions against fighting dirty, something Kazuma was certain he'd inherited.

Robb returned, and whispered first to Lord Stark, who looked out over the field, sighed, then nodded. Kazuma stood and hurried over to Megumin's brother, even his father's battle forgotten for the moment.

"She's fine. Squiring for the Tarth rider," Robb told him, pointing out over the field. Kazuma couldn't really make out more than a short figure with dark hair, but he did spot Chomosuke, who was small enough to be lost in the swirl of dust and men.

"Thanks," Kazuma sighed. "How'd she manage that?"

"You'll have to ask her, but I imagine she did it the same way my sister does anything: with great gusto," Robb chuckled, then sat down next to his father.

Returning to his own seat, Kazuma was able to relax and cheer on his dad, shouting encouragement over the clash of metal and the scream of horses and the shouts of wounded men. A melee was not a safe contest, and men and horses had died in them before. Still, Renewal Cultists and Maesters were on standby, providing aid to those who had been taken from the field. So far, none had perished, though there were a great many wounds.

After more than an hour, the field had been reduced from nearly 50 riders to only a dozen, of which the Knight of Tarth and Robert were two. Jamie had taken a hit meant for the king and gone down, and Ser Boras's arm had been broken by a hit on his shield from Thoros of Myr and his flaming sword.

Of the remaining knights, most were working alone or in pairs as the king and the Knight of Tarth were. There was still a team of four, consisting of Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, and two Tyrell bannerman.

"COME ON, RENLY! I KNOW YOU'VE ALWAYS FANCIED YOU'D MAKE A BETTER KING THAN ME!" Robert thundered at his youngest sibling. "WELL HERE'S YOUR CHANCE TO PROVE IT! MAYBE LORAS WILL KISS YOU FOR IT!"

The king's barbs only made Renly smile, but Loras flushed and charged at the king, dodging to the side to avoid the sweep of Robert's hammer. Upon seeing his lover take the bait, Renly waded in as well, sweeping his longsword at Robert as the two Tyrell men came on from behind. However, the Knight of Tarth was there in a flash, warding the king's flank as she knocked Loras's shield out of his hands with his hammer, then slammed the haft of the weapon into the young knight's nose. Loras was down, and Robert turned to deal with his brother.

However, his companion had already engaged Renly, battering at him with sword and shield. Robert set to work on the two other knights, while his brother dueled. In the end, Renly managed to knock away his foe's shield, only for a gauntleted fist to slam into his jaw, then a blunted blade bruised his ribs. Renly sank to a knee, and yielded, unable to continue.

For his part, Robert gleefully pounded the other two knights into submission, taking one in the chest and sending them skidding away gasping for breath, and smashing the other's legs out from under him. With the last large team dealt with, there were none who could stand before the king and the Knight of Tarth, and Kazuma cheered himself hoarse.

At last, Robert and his companion turned to face one another.

"I yield," the Knight of Tarth said, taking a knee before the king. "I would have been lost in the first minutes of the fight if not for you, your Grace."

"Aye, and you've saved me more than once now. Up, man, up! Face your king with honor! I'll not have anyone say that I failed to best all the men in the field today!" Robert ordered.

The knight of Tarth hesitated, then spoke in a loud, clear voice to the crowd. "My King, you have bested all the men in the field this day."

"What are you saying?" Robert demanded as he scowled. He glanced at the stands, where he spied Margaery Tyrell sitting with her father. She blushed and looked away from the king, but the Knight of Tarth spoke again.

"My liege, I am no man. I am Brienne of Tarth, Lady of the Sapphire Isle." With that, the knight removed their helm, showing to all the world that it was a maiden, not a man, who had fought beside the king.

For a moment, Robert only gawked, and Kazuma feared he would erupt in anger. Instead, Robert threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "You see that, you shits?! No a single damned one of you could stand before me or this maid! She's twice the man and five times the fighter of every single one of you!"

Robert continued to laugh, shaking his head as tears rolled down his cheeks. "You there! Girl! Darkness, wasn't it?"

"Yes, your Grace?" the woman in question responded, flushing deeply.

"Someone, get that girl a sword, then get her down here in the mud and the blood where she belongs!" Robert bellowed, waving grandly.

"What?!" Mace Tyrell gasped, jerking to his feet. "Your grace, she is-"

"Ten times the fighter you ever were, Mace, and don't make me have her beat you bloody to prove it!" Robert thundered. "Now get her a sword!"

"Here," Robb called, taking out his own blade and passing it to Darkness.

She flushed, but smiled and nodded her thanks. Then, the giant of a woman ripped her skirts down the middle, climbed over the railing of the royal box, and jumped down into the churned earth of the melee, landing with a very unlady like thud. She hurried over, kneeling before the king at her friend's side.

"Right then." Robert drew his own sword, setting down his hammer. He tapped both of the girls on the shoulders. "By virtue of your skill and valor at arms, and by winning both the Joust and the Melee during the Tournament of the Hand of the King Eddard Stark, I, Robert Baratheon, the first of my own bloody name, do name you Ser Brienne of Tarth, and Ser Mar-"

"Darkness! Ser Darkness!" the girl interrupted, flushing.

The king chuckled. "You're lucky I find you amusing, girl. Very well. I name you Ser Darkness of House Tyrell. Arise, and serve your king."

Then Robert grabbed Brienne and Darkness's arms, thrusting them skyward. "YOUR CHAMPIONS!" he boomed.

The crowd erupted with cheers, and the next thing the king knew, someone had jumped in front of both the newly minted knights, striking a ridiculous pose.

"BEHOLD! THE GREATEST KNIGHTS OF THE REALM! THE BATTLE SISTERS DARKNESS AND BRIENNE, AND THEIR FAITHFUL SQUIRE, MEGUMIN!"

The king did a double take, but before he could figure out what was going on, another girl appeared, this one, posing beside Megumin. "AND ME! CHRIS, OF HOUSE DAYNE, SQUIRE EXTRAORDINAIRE!"

"Oh Seven Hells," Robert muttered. "They're multiplying."

"WHOO HOO! YOU GO GIRLS!" Mizu's voice shouted. "BEST SEASON FINALE EVER!"

What that meant, Robert decided he wasn't drunk enough yet to ponder.

Despite all the excitement from the melee, it was only midday, and the king held a royal feast at a wide table set out under a large tent for his guests of honor. His two newest knights and their rather unorthodox squires. However, at his right, he sat Kazuma, who Robert was now loudly bragging about.

"Never misses, my son does. He's got eyes like a hawk, and hand's steadier than a Maester! He'll take first prize today, you mark my words!"

Kazuma blushed and looked down, unused to the voluble praise from his father.

"He's right, you know." Kazuma looked up to see Megumin leaning over the wide table, grinning at him. "You'll win, I know it!"

"Duh, of course Kazuma will win!" Mizu proclaimed. "He's my champion!"

"WHAT?!" Megumin snarled, her face contorted with rage.

"Yep. Kazuma's the best, why he-"

With a clatter of upturned dishes and a spray of food, Megumin launched herself across the table, tackling Mizu to the ground as her chair went flying. Kazuma could only gape in shock as the two girls rolled around in the grass, slapping at one another and pulling hair.

"OW! OW! MEGUMIN STOP IT!"

"HE'S MINE YOU HEAR ME?! I SAW HIM FIRST YOU WORTHLESS TRAMP!"

No one seemed to know what to do, until Cecily appeared, grabbing Megumin and turning her over her knee and giving the girl a thorough spanking as Mizu sat on the ground and wailed, tears flowing down her cheeks. Once Megumin was howling, Cecily dumped her, then picked Mizu up and slapped her across the face, causing the other woman's eyes to bug out of her head.

"What is wrong with you!?" Cecily hissed. "You know they're betrothed! You set this up! You know she's more possessive than the Iron Bank and more jealous than a magpie! Act your age for once!"

Mizu stared at Cecily, unable to comprehend what was happening. "Y-you can't slap me! I'm-"

There was another loud thwack, and Mizu's head jerked to the other side. "I damn well can! I didn't ask for this! None of us did! Now stop acting like a spoiled child, and apologize!"

Mizu blinked, then sniffed and started crying again, before throwing her arms around her former assailant. "I-I'm s-sorry, M-Megumin! I-I just wanted to hang out! A-and be friends!"

Megumin, of course, was sobbing as well. "I-I shouldn't have a-attacked you, M-Mizu. F-Forgive me. W-we can be friends!"

The two sniveling girls managed to make up, right before Cecily grabbed both of them by their ears and hauled them away, muttering under her breath.

Kazuma rose to his feet, until Eddard Stark set a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "Let Cecily handle those two, Kazuma. I'm not certain if anyone can call Mizu to task, but if Cecily can manage it we should all be grateful."

Stomach churning, Kazuma sat back down, looking down at his plate, uncertain what to do or say.

"You're lucky, son."

Kazuma started, looking up to see his father smiling at him. That was a rare enough thing: usually when Robert noticed Kazuma it was to berate him. "I am? I mean, I know I've always been good at dice but-"

"Not that," Robert said, grimacing and waving a hand dismissively. He massaged his left shoulder for a moment, then sighed. "Look, boy. Your mother and I… we have never loved one another. We married because it was what was best for the realm. You marrying a Stark girl made the same sort of sense: to bind the North to the South."

"Right, yeah, I've studied politics," Kazuma said, not sure where this was going exactly.

"You're not listening! She loves you, boy. Women don't get that riled up over a man they don't give two shits about! That girl, as much trouble as she is, loves you. And, unless I miss my guess, you her. The goddesses have seen fit to bless you in a way they never did me."

"Mom would like you more if you didn't have so many bastards," Kazuma told his father, and immediately regretted it from the pained expression Robert made. "Sorry, I-"

"No, no, you're right," his father said gently. "My marriage is frosty in no small part because of my own choices, Kazuma. Be a better man than me. Keep to your marriage bed. Love the woman you marry, instead of another, right?"

"I think Megumin would literally kill me if I cheated on her," Kazuma pointed out.

"Haha!" Robert wheezed, shaking his head. "I feared the same about your mother, truth be told! But, for all my hatred of Lannisters, I suppose I can't complain about her too much. She did give me you. Do me proud today, boy."

Kazuma nodded eagerly, feeling hopeful, proud, and dreading the idea that he could disappoint his father. He missed the disapproving look Eddard gave the King, but he did hear the words he spoke. "You should be proud of your son regardless of how he places in the competition today, Robert. He's shown himself to have honor and courage these past few months, something any father should be pleased to see in his son."

"Aye, but I'll be more pleased if he wins!" Robert laughed, then grimaced and winced, rubbing his left arm. "Damn, must have taken harder hits than I thought. Get me a Renewalist and a Maester! I'll not miss my son's triumph!"

Before long, it was time for the archery practice, and Kazuma tried to steady his breathing and he changed into his leather jerking and put on his vambraces with Sandor's help.

"You'll do fine," his bodyguard growled. "You're a good shot."

"I mean, I know I'll do OK, but what if I don't win?" Kazuma asked nervously.

"Then you'll do better next time. You damn well know I don't win every joust, and there isn't a man in the Seven Kingdoms that can best me in the field, save perhaps my brother," Sandor said, glaring down at Kazuma.

"But my father-"

"Fuck the king. He's a fat arsehole who lives for whores, wars, and wine. You want to be like him?"

Mutely, Kazuma shook his head, clutching his unstrung bow.

"Then you be the man you want to be. Not the man you know you shouldn't. I've fucking had to learn that for the past five years as your shield. And I-"

"BIG BRO!" Myrcella and Tommen squealed, rushing into the tent and wrapping Kazuma in a hug.

"We know you'll win!" Tommen said, grinning broadly up at his idol.

Myrcella nodded, and tied a scarf about Kazuma's bicep. "But even if you don't, you'll still be our Big Bro."

"Yeah! Good luck!" Tommen said, and then they were gone again.

Kazuma glanced up at Sandor, who shrugged. "I'm not my brother. Took me damn well long enough to learn that. Those two helped. And so did you. Didn't think I'd ever be proud to serve a noble, but you're not so bad."

Kazuma felt his throat swell up, and he nodded. "Thanks, Sandor. I… I'm glad you're my shield."

"Just don't fucking try to knight me," Sandor barked. "I'm not a knight."

"Eh," Kazuma gave Sandor a lopsided grin. "Knights are dumb anyway."

They hadn't made it far towards the archery grounds when they were greeted by the Stark sisters and Mizu, and the ever vigilant Cecily. Yunyun gave Kazuma a big smile, then gently pushed her sister towards him.

"Look, you better not embarrass me," Megumin muttered, holding up a grey scarf, which she tied around Kazuma's outstretched wrist. "And just so you know, just because I gave you my favor doesn't mean I actually want to marry you or anything. Maybe you'll have to marry Yunyun or something."

"Eh, it's happened before, but I don't think it likely this time," Mizu said with a shrug.

Yunyun gave Mizu a skeptical look, while Megumin flushed and looked rather angry for someone who had just suggested she wasn't that interested in Kazuma. Especially when she spied his other favor. "Who gave _that_ to you?!"

"Myrcella," Kazuma hastily said, and the ominous red glow faded from his betrothed's eyes.

"Oh. Well, that's ok."

"I'll be giving my favor to someone else. Not that we're not friends! Just that I don't need Megumin thinking we're rivals again," Yunyun explained, rolling her eyes at her younger sibling's antics.

"I have told you! We have been rivals in all things since the day of our birth, when you foolishly beat me out of the womb!" Megumin ranted.

"Why do you think I made sure that happened?" Mizu muttered. "You're enough of a brat otherwise."

That got the three children to regard their friend skeptically. "You determine birth order?" Kazuma demanded.

"No, that's Hestia's thing, but I wrote her a memo," Mizu said with a dismissive gesture. "I'd give you a blessing, Kazuma, but, well, I can't make it too obvious I'm favoring you, especially not given your competition."

On that baffling note, the four women left, and Kazuma headed to the field. Upon arriving, he took his place in the line, taking a deep breath. They were early, as Kazuma had wanted to gauge the conditions. He couldn't just let his luck carry him here.

"Well, well, look what we have here! Do my eyes deceive me, or did Sandor have to bodily haul you out of your sanctuary, Kaz?"

A wide grin bloomed on Kazuma's face, but he turned it into a scowl and spun about. "Ugh, is that camel shit I smell, or did they start allowing stray dogs in this competition?"

"Oooo. Nice. But we don't have any camels in Dorne," the object of Kazuma's scorn said with a lazy grin. He was a tall, lanky youth about Kazuma's age, with dark hair he had slicked back with oil and odd red eyes. "Try again?"

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries," Kazuma declared.

The other boy burst out laughing. "Seven Hells, Kaz, what does that even mean?"

"Means you suck, Dust," Kazuma declared.

"Your mom sucks better," the Dornish princeling shot back.

"OK, you officially lose. If you're stooping to your mom jokes, you're not even trying," Kazuma said. Then he extended his hand to Dust, and the two exchanged a complicated series of gestures that ended in a slapping handshake. "Didn't think I'd see you today. Thought you weren't coming."

"Eh, I've been around. Uncle Oberyn had some meetings or whatever. Actual meetings, not the euphemistic kind," Dust explained.

"Gross." Kazuma made a disgusted face. "He take you to a euphemism yet? Tyrion says my mom would crucify him if he tried."

"Oh you know the ladies can't get enough of this," Dust declared, flexing his muscles and grinning. Then he winked. "Hear you got yourself a main squeeze already. Nice. Still gonna play the field?"

"Will you two quit braying like a pair of donkeys? I'd bet a golden dragon neither of your balls have even dropped yet," Sandor growled.

The two boys turned to the grumpy guardian, their faces fixed in expressions of shock and horror. "Sandor!"

"Look man, we got reputations to maintain," Dust pointed out. "He steals panties, I make crass remarks. We're the Perverted Princes!"

"Yeah, um, afraid I'm gonna have to drop out of the club," Kazuma admitted. "Megumin would, er, not be too happy about that."

"Hoo hoo! She got you by the balls son! You whipped!" Dust cackled, slapping his knees in delight.

Before the Dornish prince could hurl further blandishments at his friend, the archers were called to the line. Kazuma felt himself sweating, looking up his father, who was laughing and drinking, boasting loudly about what a good archer his son was. Then the prince's eyes slid to Eddard Stark, who smiled and nodded at him. Well. At least one person wouldn't hate him if he didn't win.

Still, it was nice to hear Megumin cheering loudly when it was Kazuma's turn to shoot. He forgot to do the pose he'd practiced, instead taking an arrow from his quiver. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened and smoothly drew back his bow. "SNIPE!"

The arrow hit near dead center of the target at ten paces, though this was mostly just to prove you could hit the broad side of a barn. This was the range that little kids practiced at, not experienced bowmen.

Just about every archer who had joined the contest easily hit the target closely enough to advance, including Dust, who made a great show of struggling to draw his bow before releasing with a cry of "EAGLE EYE!"

"When did you start doing that?" Kazuma asked his friend as they moved back to twenty paces.

"Dunno, couple months ago, maybe? Just felt right. Makes my aim a lot better. Now I'm better than even you, you lucky dirtbag."

"Oh we'll just see about that," Kazuma laughed, despite the butterflies in his stomach.

The field whittled down with each step backwards, with the most men dropping out at 50 paces, which was a range even the best shots missed at occasionally. Kazuma felt his heart flutter a bit when he loosed, but he still struck true, advancing past even men who had won contests before they failed their shots at 70, 80, then 90 paces.

At 100 paces, it was down to four: Kazuma, Balon Swann, and a commoner from the Dornish Marches named Anguy.

"Hey man, you're not bad. Want a job after this?" Dust asked his countryman.

The older boy flushed. "I'm just a lad from Haavar, m'lord."

"Yeah, but you're a good shot. Even if you won't win," Dust told him.

That made the older boy scowl, and he made his shot, even as Balon Swann was walking away, swearing, having missed his last shot.

"Let's make this interesting, shall we?" Dust said, taking out two arrows. "Two, for the price of one? Eh? EAGLE EYE DUAL SHOT!"

Both arrows flew true, embedding themselves dead center of the target, and both better even than Anguy's. The other boy's jaw dropped as the crowd went wild.

"Beat that, Kaz," Dust taunted.

"Oh, I think I will," Kazuma told him, sauntering forward despite his trepidation. Still, he couldn't back down now. He didn't try the two arrow trick, he had no idea how Dust had managed that, but what he did do was lay out two arrows in the ground in front of him, then put two in his hand.

Heart pounding, Kazuma visualized what he wanted, then stopped thinking and moved. He shouted his battlecry as he fired the first, and it had barely left the bow before he notched the second arrow to the still vibrating string and cried "SNIPE!" again.

Both arrows slammed into Dust's, splitting them down the middle, then Kazuma took up the other two arrows and fired as fast as he could, splitting his own arrows in turn. He felt a slow, lazy grin spread on his lips, and he leaned on his bow, turning to Dust, who looked irritated. "Not bad, eh?"

"Cheating _bastard_ ," Dust muttered.

"Oh? I'm not the one using freaking Dual Shot to show off," Kazuma argued.

"Yeah, yeah," Dust muttered. "Alright. Let's take this to one-fifty. See who's so fancy then."

At a hundred and fifty paces, most men would be lucky to hit the target at all, let alone score a decent shot. At that extreme range, Anguy missed, though by less than a hand, a still impressive shot, as no one actually practiced at such long distances. Besides, in times of war, archers did not fire at targets, but into a mass of men.

Dust, however, not only hit the target, but got within three fingers of the center, to the excitement of the crowd.

"That money is practically mine! Easy life, here I come!" Dust hooted happily.

"You already have an easy life: you're a prince," Kazuma pointed out.

"Look, man, that's my dad's money. It's the principle of the thing, you know? Not the same when you're blowing someone else's cash," Dust argued.

Anguy looked petulant, but Dust slapped him on the back. "Hey, don't worry, you did good! We'll hook you up with an easy job. Uncle Oberyn will set you up with some of his favorites too. He knows all the good brothels."

That seemed to perk the other Dornishman right up, but Kazuma ignored the byplay. He turned his face into the wind, gaging it, then carefully ran his hands over his arrows. He selected one, then notched it to his bow string. He felt his luck raising as he raised his bow, aiming high. "Snipe."

Before the arrow had even landed, Kazuma knew it would hit dead center. He turned around, facing the royal box, and stood up on one leg. "BEHOLD! I AM KAZUMA BARATHEON, FOREMOST ARCHER OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, AND HE WHO NAMES MEGUMIN STARK AS HIS QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY!"

The roar of the crowd was a distant whisper, as Kazuma had eyes and ears for only one person. Megumin blushed, and held up one hand, giving Kazuma a thumbs up and a nod.

As far as he was concerned, that was the best prize he could have hoped for.

_Cast of Characters_

_Brienne as; That's SER Brienne to you, pal._

_Darkness Tyrell as; STOP CALLING ME MARGAERY!_

_Chris the Thief as; Not Eris. No, really._

_Megumin as; TOKUSENTAI! ELITE WOMAN WARRIORS SQUAD!_

_Robert Baratheon as; MULTIKILL! DOMINATING!_

_And introducing:_

_Dust as; Prince Trystane Martell._

_And the cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as off their rockers._


	20. My Heart is Burnin' For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys and Iris Do Meereen.

_This chapter is sponsored by: Skillshare, now with How to Train Your Dragon, Belzerg Edition. For when you need to keep your beloved vicious monster in line, try our new course in draconic parentage._

_Chapter 19: My Heart is Burnin' For You_

The noon sun beat down on Viserys, and he squinted at the city that lay spread out before them. It was a colorful place, shining brightly in a myriad of hues, its bricks a variety of reds and yellows. There was also the green of many gardens, watered by the river that followed through the city. And of course, the famous pyramids shone like a polished bronze mirror. Truly, a city of the wealthy, a place where a man of refined tastes could relax, and be attended by slaves all the day long.

Morosely, Viserys wondered what Meereen, greatest of Old Ghis, would smell like as it burned to the ground. He couldn't fathom any other fate for a city Iris visited, especially not with her three dragons.

"Just you wait, Big Bro! The Lhazareen said there's lots of slave soldiers here! We'll get a bunch, and some ships, and sail back to Westeros and you'll be king in no time!" Iris burbled happily as they began their descent down the hillside.

"You know, Iris, I don't really think it's entirely necessary you go to all this bother. Perhaps we could just carve out a kingdom here? There's plenty of old abandoned cities, and from what we've heard the Dothraki are practically extinct now thanks to your efforts. We could set up here quite nicely," Viserys suggested.

Shaking her head, Iris gave her brother a dazzling smile. "Oh no, Big Bro. The Iron Throne belongs to you! I won't let a usurper bully my Big Bro. Robert has to pay!"

"I mean, maybe we could just send him a very nasty letter?" Viserys suggested. He was treading over old ground though, and knew it. He mostly argued with Iris just to pass the time. If she started to get angry, he always immediately caved and agreed she was right. And, since Iris's eyes took on a familiar intensity that spoke of Waking the Dragon, he did that now. "Ha! Only joking. Of course we'll go and spank Rotten Robbie."

"Oh Big Bro, you're so funny!" Iris laughed, and spurred her horse down the hillside, Ser Jorah following as her ever faithful shield. Not that Iris needed one.

"You sister is eager to return to the lands of the False Goddesses," Mirri Maz Durr said from Viserys's elbow, making him jump in the saddle. He glared down at the squat woman, who was sweating in her ochre and white face paint.

"Look, we've been over this. They are patently not false goddesses. I just don't like them very much because they made my life a living hell," Viserys sighed.

Mirri scoffed, shaking her head and making the bells on her cap jingle "What powers do the false goddesses have that the Lord of Light does not?"

"Well I don't know. Has he ever made anyone like Iris?" Viserys responded dryly as he flicked his reins.

"He raised up Azor Ahai, the Prince that was Promised, as he will you in turn, O great prince," the Red Priestess intoned.

"That's nice. What I really want is him to either find a way to get rid of Iris, or get me somewhere far away from her. I'm not a hero, Mirri. I've seen what happens to heroes: Iris picks her teeth with them."

"Offer your sister to the flames, and it shall be done," Mirri promised in a low voice.

That was funny enough to get a bark of laughter out of Viserys. "Mirri, sometimes I wonder if you're stupid, or just hard of hearing. This is Iris we're talking about. She thinks fire tickles. Did you not recall people talking about how her tent burned down, with her inside it, and she didn't even wake up?"

"The fires of The Lord of Light consume all, my prince. And they favor the blood of gods and queens," Mirri told him, her voice low and throaty.

Viserys gave her a pained smile, then kicked his horse into a trot to get away from her for a time. What was it with the insane women in his life? Did he have a sign on his back that said "lunatics welcome"?

Before long, they arrived at the gates of Meereen, which stood open, but were bared by a line of slave soldiers, along with several powdered and pompous nobles on litters born by bare chested slaves.

From the city rode a man with hair shaped like rams horns, bearing a massive bronze lance and dressed in bronze ringmail. "You, Dragonmaster, do you intend to conquer this city? Would you burn the pride of Old Ghis as an offering to your craven goddesses?"

Viserys looked around, but realized the man was addressing him. He turned back, cupping a hand to his mouth and shouting in reply. "I'm afraid you have quite the wrong idea. We're not burning anyone as an offering, especially not to the Seven. Do you even read their scriptures? They're rather against human sacrifice, you know."

"You tell him, Big Bro!" Iris declared, giving Viserys a wide grin.

The Meereenese rider seemed taken aback, but stood in his stirrups and called back, "I am Ozank zo Pahl, Champion of Meereen! I would challenge you, Dragonlord! A wager! Your Dragons against a thousand slaves! If your champion can best me, they are yours, but should I slay your champion, the dragons are ours!"

"Are you daft, man?" Viserys called back. "They're dragons. Not dogs. They're not going to serve you because I sign a piece of paper or something. Really, I'm starting to question your intelligence. You don't know anything about religion or dragons. Is there something you do know? Because otherwise I think I'd rather speak to someone of proper breeding and wits about this."

"I know this!" Oznak snarled, raising his great spear. "I am the son of Hzork zo Pahl! Are you men, or are you eunuchs? Will you not face me?!"

"Iris," Viserys said, rubbing his face with one hand in exasperation. "Why don't you just go teach that man a lesson. We'll get our thousand soldiers and-"

"I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE!" Iris roared, catapulting out of her saddle and dashing towards a startled Ozank faster than a sprinting horse. She was far enough away that Oznak had time to raise his spear and spur his mount, but it did him little good. Iris leapt over the weapon, and clothlined Oznak so that he tumbled to the ground, dropping his lance. Then, Iris bent the rattled man over her knee, and proceeded to thoroughly spank him.

"Are you sorry!?" Iris demanded as she wailed on the nobleman. "Tell Big Bro you're sorry!"

Oznak managed to wheeze something that seemed to mollify Iris, who stood the shaking man up on two legs. He was hunched and clutching at what had to be several broken ribs, but he was still more than a hand taller than Iris.

"Right. Now you owe us a thousand soldiers," Iris said seriously. "Also, we'd like some boats. We're going to invade Westeros!"

A sniveling Oznak stumbled back to the flabbergasted leaders of the city, hobbling on only one boot, the other having been knocked off in his fall. There was a hasty conference as the palainquins of the slave masters were drawn together. At last, one litter, bearing an especially fat man, hurried forward.

"The Great Masters of Meereen bid you welcome, Iris Stormborn. We shall be happy to provide you with your mercenaries, as promised. For your ships, perhaps you can win them in the Fighting Pits."

"Fighting Pits?" Iris asked, looking suddenly eager. She turned to Viserys, a huge grin on her face. "Big Bro, they have Fighting Pits!? Do they let you fight as much as you want?!"

"The fighting pits of Meereen are famous, my lady, for their blood sport," Ser Jorah informed her. "They are a barbaric place, where the blood flows like water as the crowds cheer."

"R-really?" Iris asked, her pale violet eyes suddenly glowing. "And… they pay you to fight?"

"Oh yes, champions can grow quite rich in the Fighting Pits," the Great Master chuckled. "Will you be participating yourself, young mistress?"

"YES!" Iris agreed eagerly, then flushed. "Um, if it's alright with Big Bro, that is."

Viserys looked to the Great Master, pursing his lips. The man was sweating profusely, and though it was a hot day, he guessed the poor fool actually thought he could get Iris killed in gladiatorial combat and solve his problems. Well. Maybe it was time for some of Viserys's misery to be spread around a little.

"I think that's a great idea, Little Sister. Think how many mercenaries we could win from your exploits in the Pits?" Viserys asked, giving Iris a smile. Maybe it would keep her distracted for a few days.

"Well they gave me a thousand for beating one guy and he wasn't even very hard! I bet we'll get a whole army!" Iris said eagerly. "Come, show me these fighting pits! And make sure you bring your strongest fighters!"

It was, of course, not that simple. Somewhere had to be found for Iris's menagerie of followers and trio of dragons, who had continued to grow on a rich diet of mutton. While most everyone was terrified at the sight of the dragons, even Belzerg was rather well behaved despite being the size of an aurochs now. This might have had something to do with the fact that Iris had given the dragons rather thorough educational courses in when it was OK to kill people (when she said so or when they "hurt Big Bro") and that it was never OK to eat people, no matter how tasty they looked.

And the fact that two days ago when Belzerg had tried to headbutt Iris, she'd headbutted him right back and knocked the dragon out for about twenty minutes. Viserys figured if his sister could do that to a dragon of all things, the Fighting Pits were doomed.

In the end the Great Masters gave over a decently sized manse near the river, which stank to high heaven as it was used as a sewer and they were staying in the downstream portion.

"This will not do: Open human waste is a vector for all manners of diseases. I have inspected the riverbank, and they do not have proper lining to prevent possible seepage into cisterns and wells," Iris declared, continuing what Viserys considered her pointless crusade for cleanliness.

"Well, there's not much you can do about it, is there?" Viserys sighed. "It's not like you can punch the river into submission."

"No, but Septon Garreth and Septa Lirra can!" Iris declared. She then took her two Axis cultists upriver, and had them work on purifying the water while she lectured passersby on "proper waste management."

In the end the two Axis cultists could only do so much, but they drew interest from many of the slaves coming to dump their waste into the foul waters. Viserys tagged along for the entertainment value, and also to get away from Mirri who was harassing him again. To his mild amusement, most of the slaves seemed rather eager to learn about the Faith of the Seven and Aqua in particular.

"Does this goddess require you to burn the manhoods of young boys on her altar?" one older man with a clean face and a fat belly said. Viserys figured he was a eunuch, a barbaric practice these Meeranese inflicted on their slaves.

"What?! No! That's awful!" Septa Lirra gasped. "Aqua would never ask that! All she wants are prayers and offerings of alcohol, and maybe the occasional nice painting or sculpture."

"Does she require the sacrifice of human flesh to keep back the night?" another slave asked.

"Only the monstrous and wicked false god of the Red Temples demands such. The Seven Goddesses value all their followers, and would never allow them to be killed in their name!" Septon Garreth declared. Then he and Septa Lirra hopped up on a couple of barrels and began to preach the Gospel According to Aqua.

"Life is hard and short, so you should be happy while you're alive!"

"All love is good in the eyes of Aqua, be you slave, free, or master, all are beloved in her eyes."

"All life is precious, because you never know when it's going to end. So be excellent to one another!"

One thing Viserys had to say for the Axis Cult: Their sermons were always amusing. The slaves didn't seem to find the inane platitudes funny, instead hanging on their every word. This only lasted about half an hour however, before Mirri and several other Red Priests and their attendants showed up.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Mirri bellowed, striding forward. "How dare you preach the word of the false goddesses in this city!"

"SCREW YOU RED BITCH!" Septon Garreth shouted back. "ONLY REASON WE HAVEN'T PURGED YOUR HERETIC ASS IS BECAUSE YOU'RE BIG BRO'S FRIEND!"

"In this city, you have no power, for here, we serve the Lord of Light!" Mirri proclaimed. "All Heretics will be offered to the flames, as a sacrifice to hold back the Great Other! For the Night is Dark, and Full of Terrors!"

"The night is dark, and full of terrors," the slaves repeated dully, attempting to surreptitiously flee from the Red Priests before they were accused of heresy themselves. Viserys didn't really care, but Iris seemed upset by the display.

"At least Aqua cares about proper sanitation. And you really shouldn't be burning people, Big Bro says that most people get hurt when you burn them," Iris informed Mirri and the other Red Priests.

"It is through sacrifice to our god that we are kept safe from the darkness of night," Mirri intoned. "But, we have come to talk of a different kind of sacrifice. They are ready for you at the Great Pit of Daznak."

The thought of being able to fight someone seemed to make Iris forget her quibbles with Meereen's sanitation practices, and she grabbed Viserys's arm, grinning widely. "Come on, Big Bro! This will be fun, and we'll get you a big army!"

Deciding not to mention that the sight of blood made him queasy, Viserys allowed himself to be escorted through the city to Daznak's Pit. Viserys had sort of expected it to be a drab affair of dusty stone and sand stained with dark blood, but instead it was colorfully painted, with benches that matched the hues of the rainbow with red at the bottom and violet at the top.

Over it all looked a grinning statue of Kefka, the Lord of Light, wearing his blood red cape and motley patchwork of colorful clothes, the statue being painted just as garishly as the arena. The Laughing God appeared to be grinning down at the fight pit, as if the spilling of blood pleased him. Beside the statue were two blackened iron poles, which Viserys realized had to be used for human sacrifice. He hoped they just burned the losers when they were already dead, but he knew that wasn't the case.

The Great Bowl was currently packed with people, from slaves down in the red benches to merchants sitting on the yellow to the very top where nobles reclined on blue or purple depending on their rank. All were clamoring eagerly for blood, and down in the pit waited a hulking brute of a man, dressed in black plate and carrying an enormous two handed axe over one shoulder, his face hidden in a black helm shaped like the face of a snarling boar.

"Oh, he looks strong, Big Bro! Do you think he's strong? Maybe he can even hurt me!" Iris said eagerly, practically jumping up and down in anticipation.

Viserys somehow doubted even the monster they had found to battle Iris would be able to so much as scratch her. Perhaps if she stood very still and let him take a swing at her, but Iris didn't believe in going easy on people.

"Before we begin, we must dedicate these games to our patron!" one of the Great Masters boomed from the highest box, raising his hands to the sky.

He seemed about to say something more, until Iris raised her sword skyward, and a lightning bolt crashed down into her. Instead of frying his little sister where she stood, the strike made her crackle with power. "I DEDICATE THESE GAMES TO THE GODDESS ATHENA, AND TO MY BIG BRO!"

Before anyone could protest further, Iris let out a squeal of glee, leaping down about fifty feet to the arena floor, landing in an explosion of power and sand. The pit fighter stumbled back and raised his axe, only for Iris to dash forward, sweeping the big man's legs out from under him with the flat of her blade. He landed in a clatter of armor, and Iris was on top of him in a heartbeat, her sword tip pressed to his chin.

The slaves and lower classes went wild with cheers, while the Great Masters looked on in stunned silence to see their chosen fighter bested before he'd even begun.

"DO YOU YIELD!?" Iris shouted, her teeth bared in a feral grin.

"I-I yield, Great Mistress," the slave fighter gasped, letting his axe fall from his hands and raising them in supplication."

"Do you swear to serve my Big Bro?" Iris prodded, not lowering her sword.

The gladiator nodded, his voice squeaking slightly from fear. "I swear! I will serve you and your brother faithfully!"

At that, Iris hopped off his chest, sheeting her sword. "Great! Go wait over there. I've got to win a lot of people if we're going to have a whole army. Ser Jorah will fold you into our force organization chart."

As if he couldn't believe it, the slave rose jerkily, looking around. Then he bowed low to Iris, blubbering his thanks, picking up his axe and hustling over to where Ser Jorah was waiting along with several of the dothraki Iris had press ganged into her service as well.

"This… this is an outrage!" the Great Master in charge of the fights cried. "There must be blood, for these games are dedicated to Kefka, the Lord of Light! He must have the blood of the valiant to strengthen our defenses against the Great Other!"

"Don't be silly; I dedicated these games to Athena, not stupid Kefka," Iris sniffed. "I'm not killing any man who yields and agrees to serve my brother. That would be a tremendous waste of human resources and an egregious display of heresy."

That seemed to incense the Great Masters and Red Priests in attendance, but as they were probably planning to kill Iris by throwing her against their strongest fighters, they didn't argue, instead sending in the next fighter, this a man armed with a heavy crossbow and several daggers. He fired a bolt at Iris even before he finished stepping out on the sands.

Unfortunately, Iris was busy waving excitedly to Viserys, and the bolt struck her square in the back of the head. The crowd cheered at the prospect of seeing brains and blood on display, and Iris staggered.

Viserys just shook his head. The poor fools.

"I felt that!" Iris gasped, rubbing the back of her head as she straightened. A small lump appeared where the bolt had struck, and a slow trickle of blood seeped out.

The archer jerked in surprise, but quickly began to wind back his bow for another shot. That effort proved entirely futile when Iris changed him like a raging bull, forgoing her sword to toss the man over her shoulder, sending him tumbling ass over teakettle across the arena sands. He had no chance to recover, as Iris once more touched her sword to the man's throat and demanded his pledge of loyalty, which he gave as soon as he got his breath back.

There were dark mutters from upper decks of the crowd now, but the slaves seemed intrigued to find this supposed noble who showed mercy and clemency to her defeated foes. Iris repeated the display for upwards of an hour, to the increasing ire of the Great Masters, until she had assembled a score of tough looking pit fighters of all shapes and sizes, from a pair of women who wielded daggers and nets, to a man who claimed to be an exiled alchemist of kings handing and had attempted to douse Iris in wildfire.

"Enough! That is enough for today! There has not been a drop of blood spilled this day, an insult to The Red God!" the arena overseer bellowed.

"To be fair," Viserys called up to him. "I'm pretty sure there was at least a little blood spilled. My sister did rough up our new friends rather badly."

"We're not offering blood to stupid Kefka anyway! He's ugly and mean, unlike my Big Bro!" Iris shot back.

"ENOUGH! Begone from this stadium! You are fortunate indeed we do not simply slay you where you stand!" the Great Master ranted.

Viserys was happy enough to be done for the day, heading back to their borrowed mansion and enjoying a light dinner. Iris was busy playing with her new toys. Something about "instructing the new recruits in close order drill." Whatever that meant.

Viserys was just about to go to bed when there was a knock at this door. He opened it to find Mirri there, along with two exceedingly lovely Red Priestesses. One had darkly tanned skin and even darker hair, while the other was paler with almond shaped eyes. Both were comely, with a great deal of bosom showing.

"Great Prince, we invite you to come and join us for the Night Fire at the Great Pyramid this evening. Afterwards, these ladies would have you grant them the gift of your presence, for they fear the night and what it holds, and would have your protection against it."

"I'll just put on my boots," Viserys said eagerly. Perhaps there was something to this new religion after all.

The sun was poised just above the horizon as Viserys was hustled to the very top of the great pyramid. He was breathing hard by the time he got there, but the two lovely priestesses were still smiling at him as he ascended the last step. He found himself looking down at the flat top of the pyramid, where there were three great bonfires laid out, but not yet lit. He noticed they had wooden stakes tied to them, and wondered what those were for.

Glancing around, Viserys spied Garreth and Lirra, who looked somewhat the worse for wear. "Come to celebrate the Lord of Light? I thought you two would be opposed to Night Fires."

"Oh, they shall BE the Night Fire. Along with you, Great Prince," Mirri cackled. That was when the two lovely priestesses grabbed ahold of Viserys and dragged him over to one of the pyres. He tried to struggle, but he wasn't especially strong, and they easily overpowered him.

"What? No! You can't do this to me! I'm your prince that was promised right?" Viserys babbled as he was tied to a stake, along with the weeping Garreth and Lirra.

"Oh indeed. Your soul shall ascend to the Lord of Light, and he shall send a Great Shadow to blot out your heretic sister," Mirri sneered. "The Stormborn shall fall, and soon, the pathetic goddesses of your western lands!"

"But I don't want to die!" Viserys blubbered as the priests withdrew. For the first time in years, Viserys cried out for his sister. "Iris! Iris! Help me! Little sister, please! HELP!"

"She cannot save you now," Mirri cackled, then raised her hands. "O Lord of Light, we offer these two heretics, and he who bears the royal blood of dragons to you! May their souls bring great warmth to this world, and cast a long shadow! For the Night is Dark, and Full of Terrors!"

"For the Night is Dark, and Full of Terrors!" echoed the assembled Great Masters and Red Priests.

Mirri and three other priests stepped forward, bearing torches as they chanted praises to Kefka, the Lord of Laughter and Light.

Weeping, Viserys shied away and closed his eyes, gibbering in sheer terror. He felt a blast of heat, and screamed in panic.

"GET AWAY FROM MY BIG BRO!" a voice cried like thunder.

There was a scream, but it wasn't Garreth or Lirra, but rather, Mirri was crying out in pain and panic. Opening one eye, Viserys saw a burning figure flailing about on the stone as the Great Masters and Red Priests began to scream in terror. Above them hovered Iris on the back of Belzerg. Imouto and Shining Sword had grabbed the other two priests who had been going to light the pyres, and had flung them from the Pyramid.

"You…" Iris snarled as Belzerg landed on the steps, blocking the escape of the terrified worshipers of Kefka. "You were going to hurt Big Bro. He's not immune to fire. Neither are Gareth and Lirra! How DARE you!"

"Please, O great queen, we-" the Great Master from the Pit of Daznak began. He was interrupted by his own screams of pain when Belzerg lit him on fire with a blast of flame.

"You want to burn someone to your god? YOU'LL ALL BURN!" Iris roared in anger. "NOW, MY CHILDREN IT IS TIME TO-"

A bolt of lightning struck Iris, knocking her off of Belzerg's back and flinging her to the stones, dazed. She stood on shaky legs as three shimmering shapes appeared, women glowing with unearthly power.

"What," a purple haired woman in bronze armor demanded cooly. "Do you think you are doing, Stormborn?"

Iris paused, blinking. "Um, killing everyone who tried to hurt Big Bro?"

"Is this justice?" demanded the armored goddess. "Is this why I raised you up and blessed you, to deliver fire and death?"

"Come on Iris!" the second woman of the trio demanded, planting her hands on her hips. She had blue hair, and wore a blue dress with a scandalously short skirt. "This isn't why I brought your soul back! Focus! Do you really want to kill all these people? LOOK! There are CHILDREN here! Do they deserve death?"

"Um, no, probably not," Iris admitted, looking ashamed. "I just… I was angry. They were going to burn Big Bro. Those Red Priests are evil!"

"No, their master is evil," the final goddess said, shaking her head so that her silver hair swayed back and forth. "He would deny me the souls of the dead to fuel his own power. Instead of granting rest and peace, he brings only torment. Would you do his work for him, Stormborn?"

Iris scuffed at the ground with her boot, looking embarrassed. "No… I just…" she sighed and turned to the cowering nobles and terrified Red Priests. "Sorry. I shouldn't have burned you. Without a proper trial."

"Wait, what?!" the blue haired goddess gasped.

"Justice is our domain, Aqua," Athena declared. "Satella and I have granted Iris wisdom. Let her judge those who committed crimes, and render a fair verdict."

"Pardon," Viserys called. "But, I'm still tied to a pyre. Would one of you be so kind as to let me off before one of those dragons sneezes?"

"Oh! Sorry, Big Bro!" Iris gasped, and quickly hurried over, freeing Viserys, as Aqua saw to her own septa and septon.

"Ok, good work so far you two! These people have really had it rough under Kefka. So show them how to actually smile and enjoy life again, alright? I'm granting you both a special blessing," Aqua said, kissing both of her clergy on the forehead.

"T-thank you, my lady!" they gasped, staring up at their goddess in adoration.

"And do something about the river too," Aqua admonished, wrinkling her nose. "It stinks. Water should give life, not spread death."

"Grant these people justice, and you shall prove yourself worthy of reclaiming Westeros and leading it through the coming chaos, Stormborn," Athena told Iris, who was helping a wincing Viserys hobble away from the pyre.

"Do not forget that even I show mercy to those who need it," Satella added. "Not all here are ready for my halls. Some are yet deserving of life."

"Well, OK. But they were pretty mean to try to kill Big Bro," Iris said uncertainly.

"Not all victories are won through strength of arms, my champion," Athena told Iris gently. "When one seeks to win a war of belief, you must change hearts and minds, not simply beat the other side into submission."

"Yeah, OK. I'll try to help Big Bro be a better king, Goddesses," Iris sighed, then went over to see to her dragons.

Which left Viserys alone with the three divine beings, who all turned to regard him. He immediately prostrated himself. "Forgive me! I let myself be led astray! I just… I need a break! She's too much!"

"Be at ease, Viserys Targaryen," Athena said, sounding amused. "We only ask that you endeavor to be a better guide to Iris."

"Just don't get any ideas, Mister. SHE'S the one who's going to be queen, not you!" Aqua lectured.

Viserys lifted his head enough to give the odd goddess an incredulous glance. "Are you serious? Forgetting that, as a man, I could never be queen, I am well aware Iris is infinitely more qualified to lead a nation than I. Well. Unless it involves maps. Then, perhaps, she should leave that to someone else."

"Everyone has their little foibles," Satella sniffed. "Iris is just a tad directionally impaired."

Viserys lifted his head furter to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Look, I had to make something her dump stat, and Knowledge: Geography didn't seem like it would come up much," Aqua grumbled.

"Regardless, do your duty as an elder sibling, and you shall be rewarded, Viserys," Athena promised.

"All I want is to live in peace and comfort, and maybe have a woman who isn't totally insane," he muttered. "Is that really too much to ask?"

"Sanity is boring," Aqua told him. "Just learn to relax and have fun!"

WIth that, the three goddesses vanished in another gleam of light, and Viserys pushed himself up to his knees, feeling a bit dazed as he watched Iris herd the very cowed Great Masters into their pyramid.

"Don't worry, Big Bro! We'll have trials for everyone who was involved in your abduction, and I'm sure you'll deliver justice to everyone who deserves it!" Iris informed him happily.

Viserys was pretty sure he'd deliver whatever verdict Iris thought was a good idea, or perhaps even cut out the middleman and have her do it while he had another nervous breakdown. Goddesses on one side, his little sister on the other.

Honestly, Viserys wasn't certain which was more terrifying.

_Cast of Characters:_

_Mirri Maz Duur as; Did you order Original Recipe or Extra Crispy?_

_Iris as; Best Imouto_

_Viserys as; the extremely pathetic onii-san_

_Belzerg the Dragon as; Pecking order. Iris Belzerg Sheep and other food The Dirt Belzerg's Stool Viserys_

_And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as receiving several important lessons in civics and waste management. You know something, John Snow_ _(no, the other one)_ _._


	21. The Lies We Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddard Stark must make a choice.

_ Sponsored by: Better Call Saul. If you’re going to lie, why not hire an expert to do it for you? _

_ Chapter 20: The Lies We Live _

The air was lit by dozens of bonfires and braisers, along with several gleaming lights supplied by Magi cult. All across the tourney grounds, a great feast was underway. In honor of the victories of the King and Prince, Robert had decreed the Champion’s purse from the melee would go to food and wine for the commons, and all of King’s Landing seemed to have turned out on short notice for the festivities.

Open air kitchens had been set up to cook all manner of food, from roasted animals to baked bread to fresh vegetables and fruit that had been purchased with the crown’s coin and was now being distributed. Robert and Kazuma had never been more popular, and a feverish air of festivity gripped the city, even as the midnight hour came and went.

As for the King and his party, they had returned to the Red Keep for their own debauchery. The Lords and Ladies of the land were treated to a truly spectacular feast; endless casks of Highgarden’s finest wine, and ale from the Stormlands by the barrel. There were jugglers, bards, and whatever other entertainment could be scraped together. 

However, for a feast that was nominally to celebrate the Tournament of the Hand, the Hand of the King was notably absent. Instead, Eddard Stark knelt in the Castle Godswood before the Heart Tree, praying to his own goddess for wisdom and guidance. 

“Hey.”

Eddard started and turned, but instead of who he had been expecting, he found Aqua standing there, smiling at him sadly. 

“My Lady,” Eddard said, bowing his head. “It is passing strange to find you here.”

  
“Nah. Holo’s a good friend,” the New Goddess said, patting the carved face of the weirwood affectionately. Then she sighed, and turned to Eddard. “I just... tell Kazuma I’m sorry, OK? Even goddesses can’t meddle in certain affairs.”

“My Lady?” Eddard asked uncertainly. 

The strange goddess smiled and sat down next to Eddard, looking up at him. “You’ll understand. And, I’m sorry about what you’re about to go through too, Eddy. Just… I want you to know that you’ve done a great job, especially with Megumin, Yunyun, and Komekko, but with Kazuma too. You’re a good man. One of the best.”

Nodding, Eddard held his peace as the goddess brooded. At last, she sighed. “I hate having to risk it all on you mortals, but if I had to pick one, and I did, I’m glad it’s you, Eddy. You’ll do the right thing. I can’t tell you what to do. Just… be yourself, OK? Make the choice that will be easiest to live with, because you may have to for a very long time if this all works out.”

  
With that, she stood, and walked over to the weirwood tree. “We’ll meet again. Soon, I hope. I know you’re not one of mine, but… smile a little, OK? Life is tough. It’s OK to enjoy it. Now, sorry, gotta go stop a genocide real quick. We’ll talk later!” 

Then the Southron deity put her hands on the tree, and turned into a fine mist of water that blew away on the wind. Eddard could only stare in shock, unable to fully process what he was seeing. The Goddesses, Old and New, were working together? Or the same? He didn’t understand.

Eddard sat beneath the trees for a time, trying to collect his thoughts. It was almost a surprise when he heard movement, and stood, turning to find Stannis Baratheon, Lysa Arryn, and Petyr Baelish approaching. Only Baelish seemed to have the tread of a woodsman, which surprised Ned. It increased his respect for the little man, at least to a small degree.

“My Lords. Sister,” Eddard said, bowing his head to Lysa. He had seldom met Catelyn’s sister, but he treasured his wife enough to love her relations, especially when she had been wife to the man who had been his father in so many ways. Lysa was stouter than Catelyn, the thin girl Eddard remembered lost to many stillbirths and miscarriages. She also had a proud, haughty cast to her eyes, and the way she held herself that did not seem to be much like her sister at all. While Catelyn was proud, she was also kind and gentle, while Lysa seemed harder, sharper. 

“Stark,” Stannis replied, giving Eddard a curt nod. “What we have to say is dangerous, know that. But it’s for the good for my brother, and the Kingdom.”

“To be the Hand of the King is to face the King’s foes where he cannot,” Eddard replied. “What have you to say?”

“My husband,” Lysa snarled, stepping forward. “Was murdered. Did you not receive my letter? Do you not know the Lannisters did it!?” 

“We received a letter, aye, but had no way to confirm it. But your words do trouble me, and I have looked into your Lord Husband’s death. I can find no evidence connecting the Lannisters to his death, however.”

“Are you blind, Stark?” Stannis demanded. “Did you read the book? Did you not SEE?”

Eddard withdrew the volume in question from a satchel at his side. “I have looked at the passages, and I confess, I do not understand why you find them significant. Baratheons have wedded Lannisters many times in the 300 years since the Cleansing.”

“And each time, the issue favored the Baratheon side, did it not?” Baelish asked, his tone soft. “You saw the boy, Gendry. There are others I could bring you, here in this city. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Broad in the shoulders and chest, even the maids.”

“But not the King’s supposed heirs,” Lysa spat, her lips drawing back in a snarl, showing white teeth in the dim light of the godswood. “They are no Baratheons. They are Lannisters. Every one of them.”

“Lannisters in appearance, yes, but the queen is a Lannsiter,” Eddard said, his mind slowly ticking over, and rejecting the suppositions it was raising. “They merely favor their mother. You have seen my son, Robb. There is little of Stark in his appearance: he looks a Tully of Riverrun. The same is true for his brother, Rickon.”

“For the first time in three hundred years, a pairing between a Baratheon and Lannister results in all three children favoring the lion over the stag? I think not,” Stannis growled. “Think, Stark. That woman loathes my brother. She shares his bed as infrequently as possible.”

“This is a deadly accusation to make, to claim all three of the king's children are not his heirs,” Eddard said slowly. “Who would you accuse of being the father?”

“Her brother. Jamie Lannister. The Kingslayer,” Baelish replied smoothly. “It would not be the first time he betrayed his lord’s trust.”

Eddard staggered slightly, his mouth falling open in shock at the sheer audacity of the accusation. 

“That is why that woman poisoned my husband!” Lysa declared, stabbing a finger at Eddard. “He knew! He learned the truth! And before he could tell the king, she killed him! And had her pet Grand Maester attend him, and let him die!”

“Cersei...Killed Jon?” Eddard gasped, clutching at his thundering chest. No. No. Kazuma, a monstrous child of incest? Tommen, Myrcella, black seed of infidelity and betrayal?

“Aye. We have the proof we need,” Stannis growled. “My brother needs to know. I do not love him overmuch, but I cannot stand to see him cuckolded in such a manner.”

And, Eddard thought, it would make you his heir. Unless he legitimized a bastard, which was unlikely. Or fathered new heirs. But that would take time. 

“She’ll kill you too, Lord Stark. And your children,” Baelish said, reaching out to set a hand on Eddard’s arm. It was an effort of will not to jerk away. “But we can prevent it! Here, now! I have the watch, reinforced to beyond the numbers even the Lannisters have in the city!” 

“And I have my men as well, and Lysa’s knights,” Stannis added. “We can move tonight. Robert will listen to you, Stark. He never would heed me. But we have to act. That Lannister woman is working some witchcraft on you, and on Robert. He hated her and her filthy spawn before they went north, but something has shifted.”

“Aye,” Eddard agreed. “Robert still mislikes Cersei, however. It is not her bed he shares most nights, though he rarely sleeps alone from what I have learned.”

“So are you with us, or against us, Stark?” Stannis demanded. 

Eddard thought for a long moment. “I will do what is right. The Hand brings the King’s Justice, even on those he would rather not. But. What of the children? Their mother?”

“You always were tender hearted,” Stannis sighed. “They have to die, Stark. Tywin would raise a host and march if they live. He may, even if they die, but we can hold his sons for ransom. That may convince him to see reason.”

“War is not what we want,” Baelish said. “We want peace, Lord Stark. But the realm cannot have it while the Lannister poison festers at the heart of the kingdom.”

“There are lies and treachery here that must be rooted out,” Eddard agreed. “And the murder of Jon Arryn must be called to account. I loved him as a father. Though I mislike killing women… Cersei has committed enough crimes. But my daughter loves Kazuma.”

“Do you want your daughter to wed a bastard born of incest?” Stannis demanded. 

“No. I would not allow that. But she would not forgive me soon if I killed the boy either,” Eddard said quietly. “I will aid you, but only if you spare the children. Hold them hostage to Twyin’s good behavior if you must, but they must live.”

Stannis considered this for a moment, then looked to Petyr Baelish, who smirked. “I told you, our Lord Stark is a prickly man, who hates to see babes slain. Let him have his pets. No one will want to see monstrous bastards on the throne in any regard.”

“Fine. But if this leads to war, on your head be it, Stark,” Stannis growled. 

“On my head,” Eddard agreed. “I shall speak with Robert on the nonce. He is too deep in his cups to be reasoned with this night.”

  
“True enough,” Stannis grunted. “Very well. But we’ll have the men ready regardless.”

Eddard nodded. “As you say. But now I think I must put in an appearance at the feast held in my name, or I shall be seen as passing strange.”

“Hmph. I suppose that’s true enough,” Stannis agreed. He held out a hand to Stark. “Your word on this, Stark. I know I can trust your oath.”

“You have it. I pledge myself to justice's cause,” Eddard said, clasping Stannis’s hand. Then, he turned and left, and his soul wept. 

======================================================================

Kazuma was a bit drunk. Not too much; he’d had only watered wine, but he’d also had quite a few cups. He was laughing and dancing with Megumin, Yunyun, and Dust, whirling about the cleared space. His father danced as well, and with his mother for a change. To his surprise, Cersei actually seemed pleased, and did not recoil at the king’s touch as they flew by in the complicated steps.

Everything was perfect: Kazuma had friends, his father’s approval, and best of all, he had Megumin. She was smiling and laughing with him, and for one clear, crystal moment, Kazuma felt as though he owned the world.

Then, it cracked. In Kazuma’s head, it was as though a pair of dice had been thrown, and it had just come up snake eyes. Kazuma stopped in the dance, making Dust swear as he bumped into him, then Megumin squawk as she nearly tripped. But Kazuma didn’t notice. He turned to look at his father, who was clutching at his chest. His mother’s smile slipped, and she went to her husband's side, frowning.

The king’s face was red, and he was struggling to breath, one hand at his throat, the other at his breast. 

  
“Dad?” Kazuma whispered. Then he shouted. “DAD!” 

Robert’s face had gone purple, and he sank down to his knees, gasping for breath and groaning in pain.

  
“HEALERS!” Cersei screamed. “THE KING IS UNWELL!” 

There was a cry, and Cecily jumped over a table, dropping the serving girl she’d been fondling. She was at the king’s side in a flash. “Purification!” 

Nothing changed; and Kazuma took his father’s hand, as the king twitched and trembled. His skin was clammy and cold, and Kazuma felt nothing but terror. 

“Not poison,” Cersei gasped. “Move aside, let someone else-”

  
“HEAL!” Cecily roared, and a blue-green glow surrounded her, causing many to gasp in shock. She was an Axis Septa: they did not know the magic of healing, that was Ristarte’s cult. And yet, she clearly had just performed such a feat.

Robert gasped, and managed to suck in a breath. Cecily sagged back, looking relieved. 

“Kazuma,” the king whispered, reaching a hand up. “My son. I… I’m proud… of… of you.”

“Dad, it’s OK, Cecily healed you,” Kazuma said, tears filling his eyes. He heard running feet, and looked up to see a shocked and panicked Eddard Stark sink to Robert’s other side. 

“Still hurts,” the king whispered. “Oh, goddesses, it hurts. Can’t… can’t hardly breathe.”

“Again!” Kazuma ordered, turning to Cecily. “Heal him again!” 

Nodding, Cecily put her hands on Robert’s temples. “Heal!” 

The king groaned, then coughed. “Not working. Gods, what’s wrong with me? Get a maester. I… AH!” Robert clutched his chest again, writhing in pain. 

Cecily grabbed the king roughly, and her eyes suddenly glowed a deep blue, like that of the sea under a cloudless sky. “SACRED GREATER HEAL!” 

This time, the glow was blinding, and Kazuma reeled back, even as Cecily sighed and slumped to the ground, unconscious. Robert, however, continued to writhe. 

“Ned… I can’t see,” the king croaked, breathing quickly and shallowly. 

“I’m here, Robert. I’m here,” Eddard said, taking the king’s other hand as Kazuma clung on. 

“Take care… take care of my children.” The King’s eyes turned to Kazuma, and they were milky with pain. “Kazuma… he’ll be… better… than me… you… you guide him… AH! Ned, I-”

A dry, rattling breath escaped from Robert’s lips, and he sagged back, his chest no longer rising. 

A woman in dark robes approached, her face obscured by a pointed hood that had only two holes for her eyes. She ran a hand over the king’s forehead, then shook her head. “He is with My Lady now. In the embrace of his Last Lover.”

Kazuma crouched there, his entire body trembling. “No. No… DAD!” he found himself pressing at the King’s chest, in the weird motions like he’d seen the Priests of the Crawling One perform, as if he could return the king to life. “WAKE UP! DAD, YOU HAVE TO WAKE-”

“He’s gone, son,” Eddard Stark said, grabbing Kazuma. Somewhere, he could hear Myrcella weeping. He had to go to her, had to tell her it was alright. Their dad was just sleeping. He was strong! The strongest in the world. He’d just won the melee! He had to wake up! He-

  
“Cersei, get your children,” Eddard snapped. He pointed. “You, Darkness, Brienne. With us. Quickly. Jory!”

“Yes, my lord?” 

“Clear the hall of guests.’

  
“Dad,” Kazuma whimpered, sagging in Eddard Stark’s arms. He found himself being taken by Sandor.

  
“Get them to the Tower of the Hand,” Eddard’s voice whispered near Kazuma’s ear. “Do it now.”

Kazuma didn’t resist, letting himself be dragged away by rough arms as he wept bitter tears, his father lying on the stones of the Red Keep. His corpse already cooling.

======================================================================

“What is the meaning of this?” Cersei hissed, grabbing Eddard’s arm. 

Eddard paused, looking around at the chaos. He seemed to judge them unlikely to be overheard, and spoke. “We have not much time. I had thought to tell Robert, but…” He glanced down at the body of his friend, of Cersei’s longtime jailer. Her heart thundered in her chest. He knew.

  
“Tell him what?” she demanded coldy, forcing herself to be still, calm. 

Eddard looked up, and met her eyes. “How did Jon Arryn die?”

Cersei hesitated. “I… I do not know, exactly.”   
  


“Tell me the truth, Cersei,” Eddard demanded, squeezing her arm.

She grew frantic. He did! He knew! But, this, at least, she was innocent of. “Poison. Pycelle says it was poison. Who, I do not know.”

“Was it you?” Eddard demanded.

Cersei shook her head mutely. Her children. Her children would die. Stark would kill them himself. He was a wolf, and he smelled blood. Would he seize the throne for himself, or give it to Stannis and return to his frozen hell?

“Did he tell you what he suspected? That your children were bastards born of incest?” Eddard demanded.

The queen paled. “No, I- Stark, my husband’s corpse is not yet cold. How can you-”

“Littlefinger lied.”

  
Cersei’s heart nearly stopped, but she managed to say, “What?”

“He has manipulated Lysa Arryn and Stannis Baratheon. I believe Littlefinger poisoned Jon Arryn, to stir up enmity between our houses. How he seeks to profit from this, I am not clever enough to know. But this I do understand: Yunyun mislikes him.”

“Yunyun likes everyone,” Cersei said stupidly, her mind reeling. What was happening?

“There have been others. One turned out to be a raper. Another was a woman who stole from her relatives. We have not time to speak of more, but this I know: if Yunyun does not wish to be someone’s friend, they are not worthy of friendship. But she does want to be your friend, Cersei. So I ask myself, who do I believe? A man who seems to make a habit of lying, and covets my wife and her sister for himself? Or the mother of my daughter’s best friends?”

“They are not… who do they say the father is?” Cersei managed, her mind now racing. “Tyrion? Or do they at least have the decency to claim it was Jamie? Perhaps one of my uncles, or cousins?

“It matters little, but they say your twin. Tell me now, Cersei. Who is Kazuma’s father?” Eddard demanded.

The chaos around Cersei slowed to a crawl. She forced herself not to blink. In one clear, crystalline moment, she looked to her husband’s body, and spoke the words. “Robert. Unlike him, I never shared my bed with another. Robert is Kazuma’s father.”

She looked back to Eddard Stark, and to Cersei’s unending shock, she saw belief. There was a shadow of doubt, a flicker of misbelief, but the man nodded. “Aye. Their evidence is thin. An old book that claims the children of unions between Lannisters and Baratheons always favor the Stag. And the fact that Robert’s bastards have dark hair.”

“That… that’s all? They would kill my children over dusty words in a book and his ill gotten gets?” Cersei demanded, putting real scorn in her voice. “I would have thought they’d at least fabricate a witness or two.”

“They have no real proof. But they have swords. Who is the Watch loyal to?” Eddard demanded. 

  
Cersei felt fear grip her heart again. “Gold. They are not soldiers, but even those follow the coinmaster, as my father taught me well. And Littlefinger pays them.”   
  


“Aye. I feared as much. And the King is dead. What better time to act?”

“What can we do?” Cersei demanded, feeling terror rise within her.

“We retreat to the Tower of the Hand. It can be fortified and held, for a time, but we cannot stay there forever. I have no provisions laid up, and even that cannot be held long. Who can you trust?”

“There are fifty of my father’s men in the castle. Perhaps some of his bannermen could be relied upon, but we have not the time to contact the few that came for the tourney,” Cersei replied, forcing herself to dwell only on the current crisis. 

“I have as many with me. Not enough. There are thousands of Goldcloaks, and I do not think we can trust the Baratheon house guards. They could be loyal to Stannis.”

“Renly cannot be trusted either, nor the Tyrells I fear,” Cersei put in, thinking quickly. “Loras is Renly’s lover, though they have not formalized the partnership yet, it is likely they will. Especially if Renly sees this as a chance to make a play for the throne.”

“He likely will. We will have to flee,” Eddard told the queen. “I’ll see if we can secure a ship. Perhaps Claire Greyjoy can be bargained with using her brother’s life.”

“We put our children on that boat, and they will be made hostages of Balon Greyjoy, while we rot at the bottom of the sea,” Cersei warned. 

Eddard hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Another, then. You know the harbor better than I. Send a man to find us transport.”

“I shall,” Cersei agreed. She paused, then reached out and squeezed Eddard’s arm. “Thank you.”

“It is my duty. And, Kazuma is to be my son as well,” Eddard said grimly. “I will not see more children dead in pointless conflicts.”

That was when Cersei realized: Eddard Stark knew. Somewhere in his mind, he understood. Cersei was an adultress with her own brother, her children bastards born of incest. 

But Eddard Stark loved her children, perhaps as much as he loved his own. And he would follow his heart here, not his head. So long as he could convince himself that this was a scheme by Littlefinger to enrich himself or a plot by Stannis to gain the throne, the Starks would fight for her, for her children. 

And she must never, ever, do anything that would disrupt that illusion Eddard Stark had crafted for himself. Because the day Eddard stopped believing the lie he had woven in his mind was the day Cersei’s children died. 

And so, Cersei bid Jamie’s caresses goodbye forever. She was many things, but above all, Cersei Lannister was a lioness. 

  
And she would die before her cubs were harmed. 

_ Cast of Characters: _

__

_ Eddard Stark as; Papa Wolf _

_ Bobby B as; RIP _

_ Stan the Man as; Misreading Eddard entirely _

_ Petyr Baelish as; too clever by half _

_ Lysa Arryn as; Black Widow _

_ Kazuma as; Grieving _

_ And Cersei Lannister as; One Lucky Bitch _

_ With the cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as just itching for that civil war.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this fic has a TV tropes page now, that's pretty NEET! Thanks to all the contributors, I really appreciate it.


	22. The King is Dead. Long Live the Kings!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks and Lannisters are out numbered and cornered in King's landing.
> 
> Too bad for Stannis they also have the Crimson Demon Clan.

_ Brought to you by FUBAR: The nut filled snack bar that leaves an impending sense of dread in your mouth and reminds you we are in Westeros after all, Timmy. _

_ Chapter 21: The King Is Dead, Long Live the Kings _

  
  


The maid giggled as Theon pinched at her breasts and cupped her bottom. He’d just about gotten her out of the dress, when the door to the storage room banged open. Swearing, Theon turned just in time to see his sister stride in, dressed not in her naval uniform, but a man’s doublet and hose, tailored exquisitely. 

“Seven Hells, Claire, what are you-”

“The king is dead,” Claire snapped, picking up Theon’s trousers and throwing them at him. “Get dressed. We are leaving, now.”

“Dead?” Theon gasped as the maid, whose name he’d forgotten nearly as soon as he’d learned it, whimpered and tried to tug her dress back on. “Robert, dead? But how?”

“I do not know, and it does not matter. We must flee, now. This is our chance, Theon. To finally correct the madness of this forsaken realm,” Claire informed him as Theon pulled on his clothes. 

Theon suddenly straightened, glaring at his sister. “I shall not help father betray the realm and rise in vain again! We lost two brothers that way, and our people suffered! House Greyjoy cannot stand against the realm alone!” 

  
“And we shall not. I do not seek to become queen. There is another. The true heir, not this usurper and his spawn,” Claire growled.

That made Theon hesitate. “Then who? Kazuma is Robert’s heir, he-”

  
“Iris Targaryen yet lives, you fool!” Claire said, grabbing Theon’s arm and hauling him bodily out of the room. “She is in Essos, even now, working to reclaim her throne! We shall go to serve her as these greenlanders battle for the Throne.”

“Battle? But even if Robert is dead, his heir is obvious. Kazuma is-”

  
“A bastard born of incest,” Claire interupted as she dragged Theon down the halls. He tried to resist, but she was monstrously strong, and it was as if he were a small child again with her twice his size. She’d rarely manhandled him, but when they had been small she had won every tussle between them. “I have sources. There are those in the capitol who yet serve the true heir to the Iron Throne, who seek the return of the Stormborn to resist the evils of this world.”

Theon’s head was spinning. “But, but what of the Starks?”   
  


“They’ll be dead before dawn,” Claire declared as they navigated the maze of passages, servants, lords and ladies running in a panic. “Lord Stark is supporting the Lannisters, why I cannot fathom. But Lord Stannis means to seize power, and he has Baelish and the City Watch, those damned Gold Cloaks, on his side. They’ll end the Starks and the Lannisters with one blow.”

Ice filled Theon’s chest. “They’ll kill them?”

“Aye, and you as well. Which is why I-”

Theon drew his sword and slashed at his sister’s arm. To his surprise, he drew only a little blood from her, a shallow gash. But she hissed and dropped his hand, her own sword flashing into her hands. 

“I’m not leaving them to die, Claire,” Theon growled at her. “Eddard Stark has been a better father to me than our own ever was. Robb and Jon were the brothers I should have had, and even Yunyun and Megumin have treated me kindly. I will not flee like some coward.”

“You would fight me?” Claire demanded, falling into a fighting stance, her cutlass raised in a high guard. “I was always better with a sword than you, little brother. You would test me?”

Swallowing, Theon didn’t answer, only taking his sword in both hands, point directed at his sister’s heart. 

Instead of attacking, she grinned and saluted him with her sword. “Well. You do seem to have a sense of honor and duty. I suppose I can grant you this one favor. Though they are my enemies, the Starks have honor, and it would be an ill thing to see them fall to betrayal. Besides, I’ve never liked Stannis. I don’t think he even reads my logs.”

Heart leaping, Theon turned and headed for the Tower of the Hand, sword in his fist. He might be a piss poor Stark, but that made him a hell of a Greyjoy by his own reckoning. 

========================================================================

Yunyun clung tightly to Tommen, rocking him back and forth in her lap as the boy sobbed hysterically. Sandor was looking dazed as well, rubbing Myrcella’s back as she cried against his jerkin, while Megumin was comforting Kazuma, his head resting on her shoulder as she whispered softly to them. Chris was pacing back and forth nervously, daggers appearing in her hands, then vanishing seemingly into thin air. Darkness and Brienne stood at the door, naked steel in their hands, shifting uneasily as the Tower of the Hand swarmed like a kicked ants’ nest. 

Robb poked his head in, looking flushed and worried. “Sandor. A moment.”

The big man gently passed Myrcella over to Yunyun, who whispered words of comfort to the still weeping younger girl. Her ears perked up though, listening carefully as Robb whispered to Sandor. She didn’t make out everything, but Robb looked frightened, and Sandor’s face went totally bank, his scared face going slack as his hand tightened on his sword. 

“I understand,” Sandor said softly. He looked to Kazuma. “Stay here. Don’t trust anyone not in Stark or Lannister colors.”

“Huh?” Kazuma managed, blinking away tears and looking up, wiping at his running nose. 

“And get your sword,” Sandor ordered, then strode out of the room after Robb. 

“Shh, it’s OK,” Yunyun whispered to Myrcella and Tommen. “Let me get you a drink.”

The two siblings nodded and clung to one another as Yunyun got up, hurrying to catch Robb just outside of the room. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, reaching out to touch her brother’s arm.

  
He spun about, hand going to sword hilt, but relaxed slightly when he saw her. “Nothing yet. But father is worried. We think-”

There were sudden shouts from down below, then Yunyun heard the ringing of metal. A moment later, someone screamed in pain. 

“Get back inside!” Robb barked, drawing his own sword and racing down the stairs. Yunyun was nearly knocked over as Brienne and Darkness stormed past her, their faces grim. They’d both changed into their armor upon their arrival in the tower, and both women towered over most of the guards.

“Yunyun, get back inside!” Chris hissed, taking her arm. “You’re not ready for this!”

Down below, Yunyun heard another man scream in pain. She recognized the wails. That was Harwin, who always boasted of his valor at arms, now weeping for his mother. She spun about, pushing Chris away. “Those are my FRIENDS!” 

Chris stumbled back, her eyes wide as she beheld the face of a true Crimson Demon: Yunyun’s eyes were glowing a sinister red, her face a snarl of anger, as power crackled about her body. Hiking up her skirts, Yunyun ran down the stairs, pushing past guardsmen and worming her way to the door. She saw wounded being dragged back, including poor Harwin, who had taken a spear trust to his leg, and was bleeding profusely. 

She got there just in time to see Robb take an arrow to his gut, and her brother sank to his knees, gasping in pain as a Gold Cloak raised his sword to deliver a killing blow. Grey Wind leapt for the man, jaws open, but he would be too late. 

  
Rage seared through Yunyun like nothing she’d ever felt before in this life. She raised a hand, and a blast of pure raw energy erupted from her palm as she screamed, “LIGHT OF SABER!” 

The gold cloak and six of his companions were instantly vaporized, and three more were killed by the detonation of the spell's impact into the paving stones. More were wounded, some fatally, by the shrapnel of stone shards that were thrown up. Yunyun ignored the smoke, blood, and shocked silence, striding out into the open, Lady at her back, grown to the size of a cart horse. 

“LIGHTNING STRIKE!” Yunyun shouted, pointing at a stunned group of Gold Cloaks, and the night turned to day as it split asunder with a deafening boom. Men were tossed about like leaves in the wind, and Yunyun pointed to another cluster, this of advancing Dragonstone Baratheon guards. “TORNADO!” 

A roaring tempest sprang forth, picking up men like they were leaves and hurling them across the courtyard, even as it ripped tiles from the roof and shattered glass windows before dispersing against the steep walls of the keep.

There was a snap and a hiss, and Yunyun spun as a crossbow bolt spun towards her, one of the gold cloaks having recovered enough to fire at this terrifying specter. However, a spinning parasol interposed itself, and the bolt skittered off harmlessly. 

  
“I got your back!” a chipper girl's voice said, and Yunyun blinked as a girl about her age smiled at her, her umbrella held like a shield. She had on a strange red and white robe-like dress, and was wearing wooden platform shoes. The oddest part about her, however, were the reddish brown wolf ears that poked out from her hair, and the long bushy tail that wagged above her skirts. “Don’t worry, Yunyun! We’ll keep all our friends safe!” 

“Um, yes,” Yunyun agreed, and spun back around as her foes rallied thanks to the momentary distraction. More crossbows were raised, but this time, Yunyun was ready. “WIND BLADE!” 

  
The bolts were brushed aside harmlessly by the solid wall of wind, which cut down three more men, ripping through armor like cloth. Yunyun gritted her teeth, breathing hard. She wasn’t used to this kind of exertion, and her reservoir of strength was running low. Still. She had to save her friends. 

Behind her, her father was clutching at his eldest son’s hands. The arrow had gone into Robb’s liver, and no maester’s art nor septon’s magic could save him. It would be a slow, excruciating death, one that most soldiers would ask for the gift of Last Mercy before they suffered.

“Father, I-” Robb gasped, blood bubbling to his lips. He gasped, his eyes unfocused and crazed. 

Eddard couldn’t speak, his grief was too overwhelming. He knew it was dangerous to defy Stannis, but this… this was a price too great to bear. 

“Goddess, please, he’s my son,” Eddard whispered, tears staining his cheeks. 

“Now is not his time.”

Eddard looked up, and saw a young man he had never seen crouching next to Robb, his expression grim. He had silver hair, and golden eyes. And two fuzzy ears that poked out of his head. 

“Who-” Eddard gasped, but the man, no, the old god, shook his head.

  
“There is no time. My brother is dying. There is one way I can save him, but the cost is great. You are his sire. Will you accept it?”

“Anything,” Eddard swore. “Anything to save my son.”

“Then it is done.” The old god took out a knife, cutting his palm. “Let the ancient blood rise once more. Let the oaths of old be fulfilled. Drink, my brother. Drink, and remember.”

Squeezing his palm, the boy dripped dark blood into Robb’s open mouth. Compulsively, Robb swallowed, gasping and choking. As he did so, his eyes became suddenly clear, and he began to writhe, his body jerking and twisting. 

“Stand back,” the wolf god ordered, grabbing Eddard and pushing him away. “He will not be able to control himself.”

Fighting against the grip, Eddard tried to get back to Robb’s side, as he was clearly still in pain. Then, the boy lay still, and Eddard feared he’d even stopped breathing. 

Then, Robb sat up, rolling over onto his side, then pushing himself up against the wall, his back to Eddard. 

“Lord Stark! We have a break in the fighting, but you must get back!” Darkness cried, grabbing Eddard from behind and jerking him away. “Get Lord Robb as well! Perhaps Cecily can-”

Robb suddenly snarled, spinning around on all fours. When he saw his son’s face, Eddard gasped, for though he recognized his son, something was wrong. His eyes were glowing golden, like the god who’s blood he had just drunk, his mouth was full of fangs, and he’d sprouted a beard as his face elongated into a muzzle. 

“Get back, foolish human!” the silver haired old god ordered, reaching for Darkness, but she batted his arm away without even turning. 

  
“Lord Robb? Are you well?” Darkness asked carefully, slowly advancing. “Please, let me help, I can take you to Cecily, she is awake again, and we can-”

With a growl, Robb jumped forward, his fingernails extending into claws. He slammed into Darkness, teeth going for her throat. She blocked him with a gauntlet, which he savaged, worrying it like a dog with a bone. Then he raked a claw across her face, and leapt back. He seemed to be ready to attack again, when Grey Wind appeared, snapping and snarling at Robb, nipping at his heels. The wolf harried his master back out into the yard, where Robb hurled himself at a group of guards that were trying to sneak up on Yunyun and...was that a girl with an umbrella with her?

Eddard stepped forward, sword in hand to help his children, but Darkness put an arm out to stop him. “No, my lord, stay here! I’ll get your children to safety!” 

  
“They are my children, and Robb could attack you again!” Eddard snapped, trying to shove the arm aside, but found it as unyielding as steel. 

“I KNOW!” Darkness panted, her cheeks rosy and eyes dancing. “Isn’t it EXCITING!?”

And then the woman ran out into the melee, bellowing for everyone to focus on her. For a wonder, the enemies that hadn’t fled did so. Eddard thought for a certainty she’d be cut to ribbons, but just as the Moutain’s blows had, not a single spear, sword, or arrow seemed able to wound the woman. She even took a blow from a battle axe to her head, and all that happened was a bit of her brown hair fell out it’s braid, before Darkness’s sword crudely slammed into her attacker like a bludgeon, caving in his rib cage. 

Still, Eddard hurried out, rushing to Yunyun’s side just as she sank to her knees, the strange girl with the parasol sheltering her.

“She’s exhausted,” the girl said, cradling Yunyun in her arms as Eddard’s daughter panted for breath. “Get her to safety. I’ll help Grey Wind with Robb. Don’t worry, while he’s warging he’ll heal from most wounds.”

“Thank you,” Eddard gasped, and took note of the tail and ears, then added, “Goddess.”

The girl made a face. “Just call me Lady. You always give good scratches, no need to be so formal.”

Not entirely sure what to make of that, Eddard hurried with Yunyun back into the tower, passing her off to Brienne and ordering the woman to take Yunyun back with the other children. As he turned, Robb was brought back in, struggling and snarling on Darkness’s shoulder, and bound with strips of hastily ripped gold cloth. The two old gods were with her as well, guarding their rear. 

“Get a barricade erected!” Eddard ordered his men, who quickly shoved furniture, boxes, and the shattered remains of the doors into place. 

“Shhh, sleep now,” the old goddess whispered, passing a hand over Robb’s face, and his struggles stilled. His face slowly returned to normal, though he kept a great deal of red stubble on his cheeks. She looked to Eddard and smiled. “Well, that’s all we can do for now! Sorry, this far south we don’t have much in the way of powers. Doesn’t help we’re pretty young still.”

  
“My brother and sister will need food and sleep. They are not used to their abilities, and will need to sleep for a long time,” the male said. “We shall need to recover as well. Fear not; we shall continue to ward our charges.”

And then, with a ripple of flesh and fur, Grey Wind and Lady were in the place of the two old gods. Or rather, Eddard realized, Grey Wind and Lady were two old gods. If very young ones. 

“I… I shall see to Robb,” Darkness managed, eyeing the wolves with a rather healthy amount of respect. “Does he, er, do that often?”

“No, never before,” Eddard supplied, shaking his head slowly. Just what was happening?

To his surprise, Darkness looked disappointed. “Oh. Well. I’ll see to him anyway.”

She hurried off in a clank of armor, and Eddard rubbed his forehead, gazing out over the makeshift barricade as his men and the remaining Lannister guards readied crossbows and pikes. 

  
“They've buggered off for now,” Sandor growled, and Jory nodded. 

“My Lord, I do not know how much time we have. If we mean to break out, we shall have to do it soon.”

Eddard nodded, feeling sick. The Gold Cloaks and Dragonstone Baratheon guards had responded far too quickly. Stannis had already been moving, even before he’d known his brother had been dead. He was making a play for the throne, and he had Littlefinger’s support, as well as Lysa Arryn’s. How many would believe the lies, especially if he, the queen, and her kin died in the fighting? Stannis might even claim the Lannisters had killed him and his children in an attempt to prevent him from telling the same damned lies. 

  
But breaking out would be suicide. He had lost a dozen men already, and would have lost more if not for Yunyun and Robb’s sudden magical manifestation. How? What could he do?

“Lord Stark!” 

  
Turning, Eddard found a gasping Theon Greyjoy running towards him. 

  
“Theon! I had thought you lost, or taken. How did you get into the tower?” Eddard asked, reaching out a hand to steady his ward.

“Secret passage,” Theon wheezed, leaning on Eddard as he tried to catch his breath. “Varys, my sister. They’ve a way out, down to the river.”

Hope suddenly leapt in Eddard’s heart, and he squeezed Theon’s arm. “Are you certain?”

Theon nodded, giving Eddard an impudent grin. “What, you thought I’d run off and left you?”

“I would not have blamed you if you had taken a way to safety, I thought us all lost,” Eddard cried, embracing Theon. He gave the young man a wide grin. “Thank you. You have saved us all, Theon Greyjoy.”

  
Chest puffing out in pride, Theon smiled. “Come on! They’re already taking the queen and the children through. Don’t worry, Ser Jamie and the Kingsguard lead the way. Varys won’t be able to pull any tricks. And Claire has given her word she’ll see us safely to the docks.”

“Thank you,” Eddard repeated. He turned to his men. “Pass the word. Everyone through the passage.”

  
“I don’t think so,” Sandor rumbled. He glanced over the barricade, and shook his head. “They’re getting ready for another rush. Be a while before they work up the courage after what they saw. A girl throwing around magic out of legend, a boy turning into a beast. They’ve pissed themselves, and their officers are beating courage back into them. But they’ll come. You need a few to stay, hold the line.”

“What are you saying?” Eddard asked, but he knew what it was that Sandor planned.

  
Jory took up a crossbow, placing it on the ground and winding the crank. “He’s saying that some of us are staying, Lord Stark. Leave the wounded with Sandor and I, the ones who can’t move fast, but can yet hold a bow or a pike. We’ll make a brave show of it, make them think we’re trying to stay here until relieved. It will give you time. Time you need.”

“I will command no man to do such a thing,” Eddard said, looking to the grim faces around him. “To stay here is to risk death and worse.”

  
“Aye. But Kazuma, Tommen, and Myrcella will live,” Sandor said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m that boy’s sworn shield. He showed me there was more to live for than getting my dick wet, or drinking until I couldn’t see. Besides. My brother’s still here. Maybe they’ll send him after us. Wouldn’t want to miss that. Wanted to bury my sword in Gregor’s guts since we were boys.”

“I swore to defend you and your house with my life from the day I took up my sword for your father. I’ve seen one Lord of Winterfell die. I won’t see another on my watch,” Jory told Eddard, then took up a place at the barricade.

There were nods from a dozen other men, most of them wounded in some way. A few others shifted nervously, clearly not willing to say anything, but not wanting to leave as well. 

  
“I’m certain we’ll need swords at the docks as well,” Eddard told them. “Neither path is safe.”

He led the relieved looking men at arms away, but spared one last glance back at Sandor and Jory and their faithful few. A part of Eddard wished to stay with him. But he knew his fight lay elsewhere. He turned away, hurrying up the stairs to where he found Theon waiting for him, torch in hand, along with a few frightened looking servants, and Claire Greyjoy.

“Come, the others have gone already,” Claire said, motioning Eddard to take the lead. 

  
“I had not thought for you to ally with us, Captain Greyjoy,” Eddard said, accepting a torch of his own from a servant and lighting it from Theon’s.

“Make no mistake, Stark. I do not love you. But my brother does. And a man like you should perish honorably on the battlefield, not to base treachery such as this,” Claire declared. “I offer you the services of the  _ Indefatigable _ . You’re not likely to find another ship so fast, nor so capable as her.”

  
“I shall have to decline. I am afraid I do not trust you that far yet,” Eddard told her. 

  
One of Claie’s lips tugged up in a half smile. “Wise. But pointless. An officer’s word is their bond. Come. Let us be out of this trap.”   
  


The passages were dark and narrow, going first down, then up, then down again, along a putrid sewer, and through places so narrow Eddard had to half crawl to get through them. At last, he came to a breath of fresh air, and a portal out to the noise and smoke filled night. Beside the doorway, he found the scent of lilacs, wafting from a man who appeared to be a dungeon turnkey.

  
“Lord Varys?” Eddard asked, stepping to the side so the others could pass.

“Indeed. It seems this is where we must part ways for a time, Lord Eddard. I confess, I did not think your tenure as Hand would be quite so brief. Robert’s death… so sudden. But there was no poison?” Varys asked, his heavy lidded eyes peering into Eddard’s in the dark. 

“Cecily’s healing abilities are beyond anything I have seen from any of your Southron priests. If she failed to cleanse a toxin, I believe there must have been none,” Eddard replied quietly. “Robert… I fear his pleasures killed him where Rhaegar’s blade could not.”

  
“He would not be the first man to die in such a manner,” Varys sighed. “The realm shall suffer greatly for this I fear. I mistrust Littlefinger and his schemes. I had thought I knew what the man was planning, but this? I confess, he took me by surprise.”

  
“So were we all. I should have seen him for the snake he was the minute Yunyun told me he was one,” Eddard said bitterly. He caught the subtle shift in Varys' demeanor, but was not certain what it meant.

“Well. Best of luck to you, and to our true king, Kazuma Baratheon,” Varys said, smiling with puffy lips. “I fear I must stay. I shall pass what information I can on to you. But what little I can do for our young kings' cause is here.”

“You have done much already; no man can fault your loyalty,” Eddard said, clasping the eunuch’s shoulder firmly. The man winced, but Eddard suspected it was feigned. “I owe you a great debt, Varys. One I can never repay.”

“We shall see. Perhaps one day I shall ask a favor of you, Eddard Stark. We shall see if it is not too much. Farewell.” With that, Varys turned and left, heading back into the murky depths. 

  
The passage head led them to a place not far from the docks, but with a group of nearly one hundred, they soon attracted attention. Revelers were still in the streets, despite the gold cloaks now shouting for everyone to return to their homes. Everything was a confused press of people, but soon someone realized that somehow the Starks and Lannisters had escaped the keep, and were making a break for the docks. The crowd screamed as Gold Cloaks began to fight against Lannister and Stark arms men, even as they attempted to seize a craft.

Salvation came in the form of the _ Mermaid’s Tail _ , a trading cog from White Harbor, and the  _ Western Lover _ , a galley from Lannisport. By offering the captains and sailors of both a healthy sum, they managed to get enough crew for the  _ Mermaid’s Tail.  _ However, a problem soon arose.

“There’s just not room nor provisions enough for you all, m’lord,” the captain of the  _ Tail _ shouted over the din of battle. He was a weathered northman, who claimed to be a loyal servant of House Manderly, though it had taken the promise of a considerable purse to get him to take them. “And we’ve got to cast off! They’re getting close to bow shot, and if they get fire arrows in my ship, we’re done for.”

“Lord Stark, my ship is still at your disposal,” Claire Greyjoy said stiffly. Her crew had joined in the battle against the city watch, lobbing ballista bolts and missiles from their catapults to force the city guard back from the docks. 

Forced to make a decision, Eddard ordered the servants and some of his guards aboard the  _ Indefatigable.  _ He noticed that Claire grabbed Theon and put him on her own vessel, but did not protest that. She had a warship, and once they were out to sea, Claire could easily overtake the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ and with her ships weapons and experienced sea fighters, overwhelm the few guards the Starks and Lannisters had left if she desired. 

There was a break in the fighting as the  _ Indefatigable  _ bombarded the docks, destroying parts of it as frantic Stark and Lannister guardsmen jumped aboard dinghys and other small craft to row out to the two ships that had already weighed anchor. They were fortunate indeed that the tide was receding, drawing the ships into the Blackwater Rush and out into the bay. 

Eddard watched from the bow of the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ as they moved away from King’s Landing, and winced as several burning arrows embedded themselves into the ship’s hull. However, they were soon extinguished, and he breathed a sigh of relief as both vessels made their way out into the bay. 

However, he was unable to relax for long, as a lockout from the prow screamed a warning. 

  
“SAIL HO! IT’S THE DRAGONSTONE FLEET!” 

Eddard swore and raced forward, watching in mounting fear as dark shapes glided across the water, the sound of drums and the splash of oars reaching his ears. 

“LORD STARK!” Claire’s voice bellowed from her ship. “WE SHALL ENGAGE! GET OUT OF HERE! THAT COG WILL BE WORSE THAN USELESS IN A FIGHT!” 

“She’s right, m’lord. There’s only a light breeze, and it’s in the wrong cursed direction,” the Mermaid’s captain reported. “Those galleys will be on us before we make it half a mile.”

“VERY WELL!” Eddard roared back. “GODDESSES OLD AND NEW BE WITH YOU!”

“IF IT'S ALL THE SAME TO YOU, I’D PREFER THE GODDESSES BLOODY WELL SOD OFF AND LET ME SEE TO MY BUSINESS!” Claire bellowed, then turned to shout commands to her crew. Drums and whistles sounded from the  _ Indefatigable _ , and the ship veered towards the oncoming galleys. Flaming ballista bolts and burning jars of pitch lit up the dark waters as the warship opened fire, moving to shield the Mermaid’s Tail as it did so. 

  
Eddard held his breath, but the galleys’ concentrated on the larger warship, likely assuming it bore the more important passengers. Slowly, the cog drew away from the fighting, making its way out into Blackwater Bay where it’s sails could be put to good use. However, they had not gotten far when more war galleys were spotted coming from behind. These were the Royal Navy, and while they should have served Kazuma, Stannis Baratheon was Master of Ships, and Eddard did not think it likely they meant to offer an escort. 

“Are they our friends? They have the King’s banner on them,” Yunyun asked, having come out onto the deck with her sister. In the dark, she could see better than any other. Which was why she managed to duck as arrows buried themselves in the mast behind her, settling the question of if they were friends or not. 

“We’re done for,” the captain said dully, his face going grey as the new galleys glided across the water.

  
“Can you get away?” Eddard demanded. 

The other man laughed bitterly. “If we had more distance, the wind at our back, and were on the open sea? Perhaps. Galleys tire over long distances, but they have good short legs, and those are veteran crews. We’ve no chance to escape.”

“Dad? What’s happening?”

Eddard spun to see Megumin approaching on shaky legs, her red eyes glowing slightly in the dim light. He swallowed. “Get below, Megumin. There’s going to be some fighting again. But we’ll get free.”

  
He doubted it. They had less than twenty unwounded fighters. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime had both been injured, in Jamie’s case severely enough that it wasn’t certain he would live, but neither would be much use in a fight. Eddard would fight to the last himself, but he was no sailor, and already felt queasy from the light swells.

“Are those the villains that seek to slay us?” Megumin asked, pointing to the oncoming galleys. They were only a 1000 yards away now, and closing fast. 

  
“Yes,” Eddard said, kneeling and putting a hand on Megumin’s shoulder. “Watch Kazuma. Make sure you have Chunchumaru, and be ready if anyone breaks into the hold.

“They shall not have the opportunity. I am the Foremost Genius of the House of Stark. Yunyun had her chance to display her awesome might, now it is my turn. Stand back!” 

“What in Seven Hells is she-” the captain demanded, but Eddard grabbed him and hauled him away as Megumin moved to the prow. She raised her sword over her head in a two handed grip, and the blade began to grow with a red light as sailors and guardsmen alike paused in their duties and stared. Then, she began to chant.

_ Darkness of the night consume me _

_ Flames of crimson fury envelope me _

_ Let my wrath be manifest in unholy splendor _

_ I call upon my blood once more, rise and surge _

_ Song of my soul sing once again in candor _

_ And now, let fire my foes purge _

_ EXPLOSION! _

Strange shapes appeared in the sky above the royal fleet, circles glowing with fiery red runes. Stars seemed to shine brighter, their light coalescing until it was brighter than day, painful and terrible to behold. Then, a blast of pure raw magic slammed into the ocean, sending out a shock wave that snapped away the Mermaid’s Tail’s sails and broke one of her masts like a twig. A fireball enveloped the entire royal fleet, vaporizing the ships and the waters around them in an instant. The  _ Mermaid  _ bucked and heaved in the sudden violent waves, and men screamed for mercy from the goddesses. 

  
When it was over, Eddard blinked away the stars from his eyes and found Megumin slumped on the deck. She was limp, the strength drained from her, but her eyes glowed with passion. 

  
“Did I do it? Are we safe?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

Eddared peered out into the night, but he saw only a few pieces of burning wreckage, far behind them. They’d been swept out, over a mile into the bay in nearly an instant. Men were picking themselves up, trembling and frightened at the unheard of magical display. Even compared to what Yunyun had done, this had been an act worthy of an angry goddess.

“I think you did,” Eddard said gently, and kissed his daughter's forehead.

“Oh good. I’m going to throw up now.”

Eddard had just enough time to point Megumin’s mouth over the side of the ship as she emptied her stomach in several violent heaves. 

“I don’t like boats,” she moaned as Eddard carried her below. “Can we get off now?”

“Not for a while, I’m afraid,” Eddard told her. He laid Megumin in a hammock, and she was soon asleep. Despite his own worries and fears, Eddard himself lay down, and soon joined her. Too much had happened that day that he did not understand, but one thing he did know:

  
He and his were safe. At least for the time being. 

_ Cast of Characters: _

_ Theon Greyjoy as; not a shitheel _

_ Lady as; a VERY helpful wolf _

_ Grey Wind as; Lycanthropy For Fun And Profit _

_ Robb Stark as; a Winterfell Werewolf in King’s Landing _

_ Darkness as: Target Acquired. Set phasers to pervert.  _

_ Yunyun and Megumin as; You Don’t !@#$ With The Crimson Demon Clan _

_ Eddard Stark as; Fate 0, Yunyun’s Friend Senses 1 _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as; not ready for this level of munchkinry.  _

  
  



	23. I Stan For Stannis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan the Man Baratheon has seized the Iron Throne, and means to keep it. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Theon abandons what little good sense he ever had and embarks towards death. By Snu-Snu!

_ Brought to you by: POWER THIRST, MANNIS FLAVOR. SO MANLY, EVEN STANNIS BARATHEON DRINKS IT. NOW WITH STAG BLASTING JUICINESS! _

_ _

_ Chapter 22: I Stan for Stannis _

Standing before the Iron Throne, Stannis Baratheon looked up the monument to the kingdom Aegon had forged from fire and blood, rescuing it from the brink of disaster three hundred years ago. Now, the Seven Kingdoms stood on the precipice of destruction once more, brought there by Stannis’s drunken elder brother and the machinations of foolish goddesses. But Stannis would not allow the kingdom to fall to chaos and madness. 

Setting his jaw, Stannis turned as footsteps sounded behind him, revealing Petyr Baelish along with a soaking wet Janos Slint, whose boots squelched as he walked, leaving behind puddles of water.

“Well?” Stannis demanded. “What of the traitors? What caused that blast?”

“We do not know, your Grace,” Baelish answered, bowing smoothly. Stannis misliked the man’s constant smirks and knowing looks, as if he believed himself to be the cleverest person in the room. “There is nothing but wreckage and burning hulks in Blackwater Bay this morning. We know that Claire Greyjoy and her ship won free, but were damaged in the fighting. As for the Starks and Lannisters, we believe they may have been destroyed in the same cataclysm that consumed the Royal Fleet.”

“I am not interested in what you believe, Lord Baelish. What I require is definitive proof of the fate of my enemies. If somehow Eddard Stark managed to get that bastard spawn of the Lannisters away from us, he will raise him up as a false king to challenge my claim. At this very moment, regardless of what else has happened, I expect that Tywin Lannister is calling his banners and intends to declare war upon us. He will not suffer the deaths of his children and grandchildren peacefully: the man built his reputation on making it clear that he always pays his debts, be it in blood, steel, or gold.”

“My lord, nothing could have survived that blast,” Janos Slynt said, stepping forward and speaking with far more authority than the man had any right to. “The Starks and Lannisters were seen boarding the  _ Mermaid’s Tail. _ That ship was last seen before that blast enveloped the bay. They’re nothing but splinters now.”

  
“Are they?” Stannis demanded, stepping down from the stairs to loom over Janos. The commander of the Gold Cloaks winced slightly, trying to meet Stannis’s gaze. “Did you know, another, similar blast was reported on the King’s Road while the Starks and Lannisters traveled?”

“Well, yes, but I-”

“And did you not see the evidence of the feats of magic performed here, in this very keep, by said Starks and Lannisters?” Stannis snapped, taking a step forward and forcing Janos to cringe backwards. “Something queer is going on, and they command powers that have not been since since the Doom of Valyria 400 years ago. If it turns out that you have wasted time not dispatching further ships to intercept them, or at least ascertain if they survived or not, Commander, then I shall expect you to make a choice.”

“W-What is that, your Grace?” Slynt stammered. 

“Fall on your sword, or go to the Wall. Perhaps they have some use for fools who cannot even manage to secure a tower surrounded on all sides.” 

Sylnt flinched again, babbled something about seeing to his guards, and fled, leaving Baelish and Stannis.

  
“Get me Olenna and Mace Tyrell at once. They are going to call their banners for me, or face my judgement,” Stannis ordered. 

Baelish frowned. “Olenna Tyrell is nowhere to be found. I suspect she found a way to flee with the Starks and Lannisters; Margaery was seen boarding the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ , and fought on their side against us.”

  
“Do you believe them dead?” Stannis demanded. 

“I believe that until I find either their bodies or find the wreckage of the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ , which I have several boats looking for at this very moment, I shall operate as though Eddard Stark is bound for White Harbor, and in a months time shall call his banners and march south, if Catelyn has not done so already,” Baelish said with a grimace.

“And my brother?” Stannis demanded. 

“Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon were captured attempting to flee the castle along with the rest of the Tyrell knights. They put up a fight, but your brother is currently a guest in his chambers, while Loras resides in the Black Cells. I can have them moved if you wish?” Baelish offered. 

“Get Loras into better chambers. I want his father’s loyalty. But he and his brothers are our hostages to Mace Tyrell’s good behavior,” Stannis ordered. “Has Lysa called her banners yet?”

Shaking his head, Baelish explained.“She is returning to the Vale on the morrow, where she shall rally her banners to your cause, your Grace. That leaves only Dorne. Prince Oberyn has indicated he wishes to speak with you on the matter.”

“What will he want?” Stannis growled. “I’ll need Dorne or I’ll risk having my rear invaded and plundered by them.”

“If I might hazard a guess? Two things. First, he will want the head of Gregor Clegaine, who currently resides in the Black Cells.”

That got Stannis to bark out a laugh. “He wants the head of one of the bannermen of Tywin, who is likely to be my greatest foe in the struggle for the throne? Ask him if he wants it delivered, or wishes to claim it himself. What is the other thing?”   
  


“Your daughter,” Baelish said, lowering his voice. “Prince Dust is in the castle as well. He is close to Lean’s age. He will want the boy to wed her, making him your heir presumptive.”

Stannis rubbed his chin, considering. “Not a bad match, especially if it wins me the loyalty of House Martell. There is the issue of Dust’s friendship with Kazuma the Bastard.”

“He is a boy; by the time he comes of age, you shall have the throne secure, and Kazuma will long be dead,” Baelish assured Stannis. “We have the Crownlands, the Vale, the Reach, the Stormlands, and, if we can broker a marriage, Dorne.”   
  
“I.”

“Pardon, your Grace?” Baelish said, blinking once before he covered his shock. 

“I have the throne and the banners, and Shareen is my daughter. You are my Master of Coin, Baelish. Do not overstep your bounds. I promised you the hand of Lysa and stewardship of the Vale. Do not overreach.”

“Yes, of course. I merely misspoke,” Baelish said smoothly, but Stannis detected the disappointment. The man likely fancied himself the Hand of the King. He was talented, Stannis would give him that, but Stannis would have a Hand he trusted, a man who was competent and loyal. Not a turncloak like Baelish who went where the profit was.

Baelish left, and Stanis turned to regard the throne again. It would be his. Robert had wasted his crown. Aerys had despoiled it. But Stannis? Stannis knew what was coming, what was needed. Iris Stormborn was still out there, the puppet and tool of foolish goddesses. She would scour the Seven Kingdoms in some sort of divine retribution, laying waste to them as the Red God had done to Valyria. Men could trust neither gods nor goddesses. 

Thinking of the goddesses made Stannis think of Lean, and he felt a pang in his chest. Making a sudden decision, he called for a Maester, composing a quick letter to Selyse, summoning her and Lean to King’s Landing. He had intended to leave them at Dragonstone until this affair was settled, but if he were truly going to make a marriage alliance with the Martells, he would have Lean meet her future husband. 

And have the boy know of Lean’s… deformity. 

Stannis’s jaw clenched as he balled his hands into fists. Thinking of that night again...he had been tricked. Fooled. Aqua and Eris had claimed they would bless him with a daughter who would be one of the prophesied Children of Destiny. Instead, she had been born accursed, a mockery of nature. 

“Damn the goddesses and their schemes,” Stannis growled. 

“My lord?” Cressen asked looking up from his notes. 

Stannis didn’t correct the man: Cressen had served him long and faithfully enough that omitting “Your Grace” in private was easily forgivable. “Nothing, Cressen. Just raging against the heavens I suppose.”

Cressen nodded slowly. “I have noted you are not fond of your wife’s Familia Septa and Septon. Nor do you pay much devotion to any of the Seven, and you turned away the Red Priestess that visited after threatening to burn her at her own stake.”

“The Seven are foolish and capricious, but the Lord of Light is a mad god that seeks to rule the world. I will tolerate fools, but madman should be locked away or killed,” Stannis said dismissively. “A pity we cannot do that to every religious fanatic.”

“I see. A question for you, your Grace. What do you intend to do with Pycelle?”

“I’m not going to execute the old fool, but I have no wish to be served by a Lannister pet. He will be shipped off to Oldtown where he can cause little enough harm,” Stannis answered. “Why? Do you wish to be Grand Maester? You have served me faithfully and well, these past years.”

Cressen let out a wet, wheezing chuckle. “No, my lord. Ah, your Grace. You see? My mind, it is not what it once was. No, you need a younger man, one who has vision. Shall I send to the Citadel for one such?”

“Do so,” Stannis said, resting a gentle hand on Cressen’s shoulder. “But I will not turn you away, old friend. Loyalty and service should be rewarded. If you wish to retire, a place shall be found for you to live out your days in comfort.”

“I shall serve you until my dying day, your Grace. But I would have another who can continue on in the offices I can no longer fulfill. I think I know of one such man. One who can, perhaps, aid you in your quest to be free of the influences of the goddesses. I was never high in the councils of the Archmaesters, but I have heard talk before.”

“Oh? I know the Maesters have long vied for influence against the Septs. Is there more to this rivalry?” Stannis questioned. 

“I do not know. Only that you are not alone in your resentment of the goddesses. I ever mistrusted them. I know too well the story of the Kinslayer, and other tales that show them to be fallible. What right have they to rule over Men? Ah, but you listen to the ramblings of an old fool. I shall send those letters, Lord Stannis.”

“Thank you,” Stannis said, inclining his head to Maester Cressen, then leaving the room. 

The next day, he received word that the High Septa, Charity XIV, had passed away, having over exerted herself seeing to the wounded during the fighting. 

“Well then appoint a new one; I shall be crowned, as is proper,” Stannis ordered the Arch Septons who had arrived to deliver the news. 

“Oh we have, My Lord,” Zesta the Axis Arch Septon replied, and Stannis’s nostrils flared at the insolence. Unlike Cressen, who was elderly with a wandering mind, Zesta was only in his mid fifties and knew perfectly well what he said. “We have sent for her even now, to take her rightful place as the Goddesses' Guide upon this world.”

“Very well, when will she be here so that we may schedule the crowning?” Stannis demanded. He was standing before the Iron Throne, as he would not ascend to it until he had seen to it that he was properly crowned. He was no pretender; he was the true Heir of Robert Baratheon, and would win his throne by conquest if necessary. 

“We do not know. Indeed, we do not know where she is. We can only pray that Septa Cecily is still alive,” Zesta replied coolly. 

“Cecily?” Stannis asked, frowning. He racked his mind for a moment, knowing he had heard that name before. Suddenly, he gritted his teeth, recalling. “You would appoint the personal Septa of the traitorous Starks as the High Septa?”

Zesta gave Stannis a grin that more resembled a baring of teeth. “She is one of the Children of Destiny, favored of the Goddesses. She can perform the signs and blessings of each of the Seven, and she speaks with all the goddesses on a regular basis. And, she is a personal friend of Lady Aqua, who appeared to us and declared Cecily to be her favored companion.”

The other Arch Septons and Septas nodded seriously, all of them eyeing Stannis with a great deal of mistrust. 

“You come close to calling me a usurper and traitor with your words and deeds,” Stannis warned. 

“The goddesses decreed that it is the Sept’s duty to guide the souls of men, but the Throne’s to govern the realm. We do not interfere with politics. We have healed your men as readily as we did the survivors of Sandor Clegaine and Jory Cassel’s men,” Zesta answered calmly. “We choose who the goddesses have chosen. And we shall continue to offer you advice, and your men healing, as we have always done.”

“So, you would prop up a bastard born of incest on the throne, using him as a puppet?” Stannis accused, pointing a finger at Zesta and the other clergy. 

  
His response was a shrug. “The goddesses use no man as a puppet. As for our new High Septa, it is for her to decide if the goddesses have blessed you with the Mandate of Heaven, just as it was Charity XIV’s to decide if your brother had attained it, which he had.”

“Tread lightly, Septon. You edge towards the politics you claim to abstain from,” Stannis said through gritted teeth.

“The goddesses make kings, Stannis Baratheon. Not men.” With that, he turned to go, the other orders following after the Axis, for once. A worrying development: Aqua was perhaps the most mercurial of even the unpredictable goddesses. And the one that had inflicted the Kinslayer on the world. 

“If they will not crown me,” Stannis vowed. “Then I shall forge a crown of Blood and Iron, that no man may dispute the justice of my claim.”

========================================================================

Theon Greyjoy awoke with a pounding headache, groaning as he tumbled from his bed. He’d taken a heavy blow to the head from a falling bit of tackle when that blast and slammed into the  _ Indefatigable _ like the fist of an angry goddess. He recalled nothing after that, but by the fact that he felt the sway of waves under his feet, he guessed the ship was underway. 

Stumbling out into the sunlight, Theon peered around. 

“Steady there, lad. You alright?” Mr. Harlaw asked, taking Theon by the shoulder and setting him more firmly on his feet.

“Fine. It shames me, but I confess, I do not have my sea legs yet,” Theon gasped. 

Harlaw barked out a laugh. “You’ll find them soon enough, lad. Come, the Captain requested she be notified when you awoke: it was her berth you were resting in. She’s had nary a wink of sleep all night.”

Claire was standing atop the forecastle, next to one of the catapults as a crew worked to repair the weapon, gazing out to sea. When she saw Theon, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Good to see you on your feet, brother. I feared the worst. Our surgeon saw to you, but there were many wounded last night.”

“Where are we headed?” Theon asked, looking around. There was nothing but endless ocean all around them, no shadow of land on the horizon. They were farther out to sea than most galleys or longships dared.

“Pyke,” Claire answered. She glanced at Theon and sighed. “Don’t make that face at me. No, I’m not going to help father rise again, even if I suspect that is exactly what he shall do.”

“You said you would not betray Lord Eddard! We have Stark and Lannister men aboard this ship!” Theon argued, anguish and grief gripping his belly. 

“Eddard Stark and all with him are dead in that blast. By our best reckoning, the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ was nearly in the center of that explosion. Even if they were not instantly consumed by it, their ship would have been wrecked as surely as the sun rises,” Claire informed Theon. 

  
Theon wanted to argue, wanted to rage, but he knew it was pointless. Claire was likely correct.

  
“The Lannisters would not welcome us if we brought the news that all of Tywin’s children and grandchildren are dead,” Theon said dully, leaning against the rail. 

“I am unwelcome in Lannisport for a variety of reasons,” Claire said stiffly. 

“Because you’re a pirate?” Theon guessed. 

He could hear Claire grinding her teeth. “I am not a pirate. I conduct commerce raiding operations. Occasionally, we have boarded and seized Lannister vessels, because they supported the False King, Robert.”

“If you’re so dead set on supporting Iris Stormborn, why are we not headed for Essos?” Theon demanded. 

“Because I shall not come to my queen with only one ship, but a squadron,” Claire replied. “We-”

“SAIL HO!” a look out bellowed. “THREE POINTS TO STARBOARD!” 

“Damnation,” Claire growled, pulling out a long bronze cylinder and extending it before setting it to her eye. Theon watched curiously, having never seen a spyglass before, as it was yet another anachronism on a highly out of place ship. She scanned the sea for a moment, then swore again, this time more loudly and at length. 

“Mr. Harlaw!” Claire shouted. 

“Aye, captain?”   
  


“Standby to heave to and pick up...a passenger,” Claire snarled, slamming her spyglass shut and tucking it back in her coat. “She would pick now to show up, wouldn’t she?”

“She? She who?” Theon asked, baffled as he put a hand to his brow and searched the shining sea. It was relatively calm, with only a stiff breeze blowing. 

“Don’t you know? She-” Claire cut herself off, and suddenly eyed Theon appraisingly. “You don’t know, do you?” 

“Claire, you’re speaking in riddles. Who is this mystery woman on a boat in the middle of the Narrow Sea?” Theon asked, feeling slightly exasperated. 

For a moment, Claire studied her brother, her lips pursed. When she spoke again, she asked, “Would you care to do me and my crew a great favor? One that will aid our cause immensely?”

“I have no interest in serving a Targaryen, Claire. I have no love for them, nor for Stannis. Perhaps I’ll just turn pirate like you,” Theon said morosely. 

“I am not a pirate!” Claire snarled, sticking her finger under her brother's nose. She took a deep breath and withdrew the finger. “Look. All you have to do is keep… her… entertained. How skilled are you in bed?”   
  


“In bed?! Claire, what are you even talking about?” Theon stammered, jerking away. 

“Don’t play coy with me; I’ve heard what you’ve been up to. Sleeping your way through King’s Landing’s brothels and the castle maids.” Claire considered, then nodded. “Yes. That would solve two of my problems at once. I’ll lend you the use of my cabin, but don’t touch my papers. I just got them back in order after her last visit.”

“I don’t just take any girl to my bed, Claire! You’re not foisting some ugly-”

Claire thrust the spyglass into Theon’s hands, and pointed, her expression neutral.    
  
Slowly, Theon opened the device, cautiously putting it to his eye. After a moment, he was able to focus it with Claire’s guidance, and settled the spyglass on the boat in question. It was a small craft with a single sail, and had but one passenger: a lady in an odd dress with wide, voluminous skirts. She had a parasol she was holding over her head, and seemed to be waving excitedly to the Indefatigable. How such a small boat had come so far from shore, Theon didn’t know.

However, focusing on the lady aboard, he sucked in a breath. Even over the distance, he could tell she was quite lovely, with long, silver hair, lively green eyes, a modest bosom, and womanly curves. Her skin was fair and unblemished, and her arms long and slender. 

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I could attempt to seduce her,” Theon said stiffly, handing the spyglass back to his sister. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Claire said, sounding rather amused. 

It wasn’t long before the ship drew alongside the boat, and a rope ladder was dropped down to it. 

“Oh, please, won’t my noble prince rescue me?” the lady in the boat called up. “I have been stranded for DAYS, buffeted by wind and storm, barely surviving! Oh, I am too weak to climb the ladder!”

Theon looked around, and found the sailors looking various levels of bored, incredulous, and irritated, while the Lannister and Stark servants they had taken aboard looked baffled. 

“I shall rescue you, my lady,” Theon called down, and slid down the rope, stumbling slightly as he got into the boat. To his surprise, the lady eagerly steadied them, then threw herself into Theon’s arms, nearly capsizing the boat. 

“Oh, noble prince, you have RESCUED ME! Take me away, that I might properly reward you for your heroic deed!” the lady cried, wrapping herself about Theon and nuzzling his cheek affectionately. 

Slightly perplexed, Theon simply accepted this, as he wasn’t one to question the affections of a beautiful young woman. “Fear not, my lady, I shall take you to a chamber where you may take refreshment and rest and recover.”

“Oh, Theon, I knew you would take care of me,” the lady sighed. 

  
Puffing out his chest at having his fame recognized, Theon ascended the ladder, where the crew of the  _ Indefatigable _ backed away from him and the woman, who was grinning widely as she held on the Theon. He should have realized her grip was far too strong for someone who had supposedly been lost at sea for days. He carried the girl to the cabin, where he set her on the bed, then poured some wine for her. 

“My Lady, I do not know your name, might I have the pleasure of-” Theon said as he turned with the two cups, then froze, his mouth dropping open in shock. 

The lady had nearly finished undressing herself, having gotten down to her small clothes. She eagerly took the wine cups from Theon, downing both of them. “I’m Nyarko-san, your one true love, Theon! Oh, I have waited so long for you to return to me!”

Theon’s mind blanked out, and he allowed his lower brain to assert dominance, grinning as he stepped into Nyarko’s arms. He didn’t even notice the tentacles helping him out of his clothes. 

Back on deck, Claire was quietly congratulating herself at having successfully solved the problem of having an eldritch manifestation of chaos mucking about her deck, and her brother moping about his dead brood of traitors at the same time. She turned and gave orders to get the ship underway again. 

“Next stop, Pyke!” she laughed, feeling relieved. 

“Excuse me. I believe our next port of call should be Lannisport, Captain Greyjoy,” a firm female voice said. 

Frowning, Claire turned to find a maid in her late teens in a rumpled dress and disheveled blond hair looking at her with a determined expression. 

“And who might you be, to give a captain orders on her own ship?” Claire demanded. 

The girl took a deep breath. “I am Rain Lannister, daughter of Ser Kevan Lannister. I am the highest ranking member of House Lannister aboard this vessel. As such, I formally request that you let us debark at Lannisport. We… we are Lannisters, and we shall pay our debts. And… and for the Stark men here as well. They should be seen to, for they aided us in our time of need.”

Claire gave the girl an amused smile. “Your father has wanted me and my crew hanged for the past five years, ever since we started raiding shipping to and from Lannisport. What makes you think I’ll go anywhere within sight of that anchorage?” 

“I-If you return me, and my brother and cousin, our house will be in your debt, and-”

“I have two children of Kevan aboard?” Claire asked, her brow furrowing. “And who else?”

“Er, Tyrek Lannister, my cousin, and our men at arms, several servants and-”

  
“I don’t care about those, no one’s going to pay a gold ransom for a scullery maid,” Claire said dismissively. She pursed her lips again, studying Rain appraisingly. “You, however, they would pay a good weight of gold for.”

“You-! You promised to see us safely back home!” Rain gasped, her face going scarlet. “If you won’t, then… then I’ll seize this ship!” 

That got an amused smile out of Claire, and several nearby sailors chuckled. “Oh, really? Your arms men have been disarmed, and most are wounded. We outnumber them anyway. Mostly you have women and children.”

“You’re a woman, and you’re not that much older than I am!” Rain snapped angrily. 

“Yes, but I have these, and know how to use them,” Claire said, patting her hand crossbow and cutlass. 

Something odd flashed in Rain’s eyes, and Claire took half a step back. “I have something too. I’m warning you, Captain Claire. There will be consequences if you try to kidnap us! I’m not becoming your salt wife.”

Claire raised her lip in a sneer. “I don’t hold with that barbaric practice. No, if anything, you would be delivered to Her Grace, Queen Iris Stormborn Targaryen, as hostages. Be grateful that I-”

Claire had been about to say, “am a woman of my word and shall deliver you to your uncle” but she didn’t have time, as Rain pointed a finger, her eyes now burning with green fire. 

“LIGHTNING!” 

Out of the clear blue sky, a jagged bolt swept towards Claire, but she was already moving, her cutlass hissing into her hand. She swung up upward, into the path of the lightning, something within her surging forth. 

“SPELL DEFLECTION!” 

A blueish glow enveloped Claire’s sword, slicing cleanly through the lightning spell and sending it hurtling into the water, where it exploded in a fountain of harmless steam. Claire didn’t stop moving though, sprinting forward, instinct screaming at her that under no circumstances did you battle a mage at a distance: you closed, knocked them off balance, and prevented further spell casting. She was behind Rain in a flash, locking her in an iron grip, cutlass across the girls throat. 

“No more spells,” Claire hissed. “Or I cut your throat here and now. That hits the ship, and we’re done for, you fool. A fireball or lightning spell would have her ablaze in a heartbeat, and we’d be sore pressed to put it out. You understand?”

Mutely, Rain jerked a nod, hanging limply in Claire’s grip. 

“Good. At sea, you use ice and wind magic. Not lightning and fire. You do that, and you, your brother, and all your little friends die along with me. Do we have an understanding?”

“Y-yes,” Rain stammered, looking very pale. “I’m sorry! I just...I don’t know what came over me…”

“I’ll have your oath you’ll try no more such foolishness, or I’ll have you bound, gagged, and stuffed in the brig.”

“I… I swear on the Honor of House Lannister, I shall not try to burn you or your vessel,” Rain gasped. “But, I’m not going to stop trying to win free! You have no right to hold us hostage! I-If we want to serve Lady Iris, we get to choose to do so, not under threat of force!” 

“Hmph. I accept your parole, Rain Lannister. I expect you to behave with honor,” Claire said, letting the girl go. She stood there, trembling, but defiant, her green eyes blazing with anger still. Claire considered, then nodded. “Join me in the officers’ mess for dinner this evening. We shall discuss the terms of your return to Lannisport.”

“I… yes. That is acceptable,” Rain agreed, flushing slightly and trying to hide a smile of triumph. 

“Good. I expect you to look presentable. I think you’d look charming in blue.” With that, she turned away, leaving the stunned Rain gaping after her. She was quite pretty. Perhaps her brother wouldn’t be the only one to acquire a paramore over this voyage. 

_ Cast of Characters _

_ Stan the Man Baratheon as; JUST STOP BEING SO SILLY _

_ Theon Greyjoy as; Mahiro Yasaka? _

_ Nyarko-san as; This character rated NC-17 for tentacles _

_ Claire Greyjoy as; She’s a Pirate!  _

_ Rain Lannister as; About 200% better than Lancel _

_ And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as;  _ [ _ wait, what was that? _ ](https://youtu.be/j1l7N-WLa3Q)

“Look, I’m telling you Claire, this will totally work! She’s into you already, you’ve had dinner together every night, and she’s actually enjoying herself. You just need that little extra to win her over!” Nyarko said as she helped Claire put on her nicest (freshly pressed) uniform. 

“I hardly think someone as refined as Rain Lannister is going to be won over by a song. Besides, it’s not as though she has much of a choice in dining with me; I do have her aboard my ship,” Claire argued.

“Look, everyone’s been practicing, and they’re going to be SUPER let down if you don’t let them do this at least once, OK?” Nyarko argued, giving Claire her very best pouty face. 

Rolling her eyes, Claire shrugged in acquiescence. “Fine. But did you really have to use the ‘p’ word?”

“I told you: Pirates are awesome. We’re totally using the P Word. Now, you know your lines, right?” 

“Yes, I do indeed know my ‘lines.’ Honestly. It’s not as though you would let me forget them.” 

“Perfect! Wait here. I’ll let everyone know and we’ll get things set up.” The energetic eldritch girl ran out onto the deck, leaving Claire to pace in her cabin. She should not be getting this flustered, or worried. It was just...why did the goddess of the Iron Islands have to be so silly, and why did Rain Lannister have to be so damned attractive? 

After several minutes of stewing, the door swung open, and Nyarko reappeared now wearing a mustache, eyepatch, and bandana. Claire almost felt like asking if the mustache was real, but didn’t. She had learned long ago to never ask The Drowned Goddess questions that she really didn’t actually want to know the answer to.

  
“Yar, cap’n, yer dinner awaits,” Nyarko growled.

Sighing, Claire followed her out, only to pause and blink as she regarded the deck. It was brightly lit with oil lanterns, and there was a table with a checker patterned cloth atop it sitting on the main deck. And, heavens help them, a candelabra with lit candles in it. A confused looking Rain was sitting at the table, a plate and empty wine glass before her with a matching set across from her. 

  
Squaring her shoulders, Claire strode across the deck, taking off her hat and jacket and setting them across the back of her chair. “Thank you for joining me for dinner again, Miss Lannister.”

Just then, two of the crew started to play on their instruments, a “violin” and a “accordion.” Two implements that Nyarko had brought the crew. It would be more irritating if the music wasn’t agreeable on long voyages, and the sailors had shown quite a bit of aptitude for the instruments. They were, of course, in their dress uniforms, complete with caps and neckties. Nyarko really had planned this all out. 

“Er, my pleasure, Captain Greyjoy. The decor this evening is, um, novel. What exactly are your intentions, might I ask?” Rain asked somewhat stiffly. She was dressed in canvas trousers and a bodice she’d had to borrow from Claire, as there was something of a dearth of appropriate dresses for someone of her station aboard. They had left in a hurry after all. 

“Well,” Claire said, thinking back to her ‘lines’. “I was wondering. What is it you plan to do with yourself? That is, what vocation do you intend to pursue?”

Nyarko gave Claire a thumbs up from behind the girl, grinning broadly, then turned and made frantic motions for the crew to get into place as Rain spoke. 

“That is… an odd question. Well, I suppose I shall be some lord’s wife, and bear his children and manage his estates. I’m certain Uncle Tywin will have a husband picked out for me, especially if there is to be war. He’ll want to secure new alliances,” Rain replied, looking around a bit nervously as the sailors hurried into their places, taking off their caps and holding them in her hands. 

Claire slowly stood, taking a deep breath, then began to sing as the accordion played a few familiar notes. 

_ When I was just a lass looking for my true vocation _

_ My father said "Now girl, this choice deserves deliberation _

_ Though you could be a septa or perhaps a fine lay-dee _

_ My girl, why not consider the pirate’s life for thee? _

At first Rain merely gawked as Claire sang, but she jumped when the crew began to sing along to Nyarko’s conducting.

_ Hey ho ho! _

_ You'll cruise to Essos’ shores _

_ And you'll keep your mind and body sound _

_ By working out of doors _

Claire put her leg up on her chair, smiling roguishly and giving it her all as she sang again; 

_ True friendship and adventure are what we can't live without,- _

The crew winced, knowing how much their captain hated the next part, but sang gamely on under their goddesses watchful eye: 

_ -and when you're a professional pirate- _

A spotlight seemed to fall on Nyarko from nowhere as Rain leaned away from the goddess as she put a hand on Rain’s shoulder and sang.

_ -that's what the job's about. _

Crew rushed in to grab the table and chairs, with Claire perching on hers as Rain squeaked and was lifted and carried to the forecastle along with the rest. “Upstage lads!” Claire barked. “This is my only number!” And she prayed it would be so as she launched into her solo. 

_ Now take Lord Harwyn Hoare, the Northmen all despise him _

_ But to the Ironborn, we love him, o’, we idolize him _

_ It's how you look at raiders that makes them bad or good _

_ And I see us as members of a knightly sibling-hood _

The crew set them all back down, and burst into song again.

_ Hey ho ho! _

_ We're honorably inclined _

_ And before we loot and plunder we will _

_ Have our orders signed _

Claire nodded, singing as she pantomimed firing a crossbow bolt into Nyarko, who did an excellent job of pretending to die gruesomely. 

_ On occasion, there may be someone you have to execute,- _

_ And when you're a professional pirate- _

Mr. Harlaw stepped forward, squinting at a piece of paper in his fingers as he half sang,

_ You can wear a snazzy suit. Yar? _

Theon stepped forward, looking a bit baffled, but sang gamely, 

_ I could have been a maester, but I’m ‘fraid I ain’t too smart. _

Next came Lieutenant Qarth, who struck a dramatic pose as he sang; 

_ I could have been a mummer but I couldn’t play the part _

Mr. Harlaw turned his paper over and sang, 

_ I could have been the King because I've always been a big spender _

_ And me  _ Nyarko continued, sporting an inexplicable black eye, _ I coulda been, a contender  _

Stepping forward, Claire took Rain’s hands, pulling her to her feet as the girl looked on in befuddlement. 

_ Some say that pirates steal and should be feared and hated _

_ I say we're victims of bad press, that's all exaggerated _

_ We never stab you in the back, we never lie or cheat _

_ We're just, in fact, the nicest bunch you’d ever want to meet _

Claire suddenly pulled Rain close, then leaned the girl back, gazing into Rain’s eyes as she blushed a deep red. 

  
“Tell the truth, Lass. Do you really think your father and uncle are planning to marry you off to someone you’d be happy with? Wouldn’t you rather share a life of adventure, here with me? I’m even nobly born! True, our houses haven't always got along, but I offer freedom! Excitement! And treasure, to which you entitled a full share based upon rank and length of service, as per the Royal Naval Charter.” Claire had added the pit about the terms of conditions of share portions in treasure, but she felt such matters important. She lifted Rain back to her feet as the crew sang again.

_ Hey ho ho! _

_ It's one for all for one _

_ And we'll share and share alike with you _

_ And love you like our own _

_ We're a crew set for fortune and that's what we're bound to be _

_ And when you're a professional pirate- _

_ You'll be honest, brave, and free! _

_ The soul of decency! _

_ You'll be loyal and fair and on the square _

_ But most importantly,- _

Bracing herself, Claire sank to one knee, one hand to her breast, the other extended towards Rain as she sang the hated word. 

_ -when you're a professional pirate _

_ You are always in the best of company! _

The crew held their breath, holding their poses as they stood there, watching. 

  
At last, Rain giggled, then extended a hand to Claire. “Why Captain Greyjoy. I didn’t know you were so...musically inclined. I must say, you make a compelling argument. Why don’t we discuss this further in your quarters?”

Claire blinked as she found herself being led to her own cabin. She looked back incredulously at Nyarko, who was giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up. Had that really just worked?

Was this even canon? Who knows. 


	24. We're off to see the Witch, the Wonderful Witch of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trusting Vanir is always a good deal. For Vanir.

_ This episode brought to you by our magic words; Klaatu, Barada...um...crap. What was that last one again?  _

_ Chapter 23: We’re Off to See the Witch, the Wonderful Witch of the North! _

It was about noon, and Komekko was eating lunch with her mom, Osha, and Rickon in the small dining room. Osha wasn’t sitting at the table, instead standing by the door, leaning on her spear. She was also dressed like a Winterfell guard now, complete with boiled leather, chainmail, and a steel half helm. Komekko wondered why everyone called Osha her “shield” when she didn’t even carry one, but figured it wasn’t worth asking about. 

As usual, her mom reminded Komekko to slow down while she was eating, and Komekko tried really hard, but she was just so hungry! She finished her soup and gnawed on some hard crusts of bread instead of using them to sop up the remains, remembering to pass down some bits to Hoost and Shaggy Dog under the table. 

She was just about to look for more bread to eat when she heard pounding footsteps, then the door burst open to admit a breathless Maester Luwin, his face red and flushed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My, my lady, a message,” Luwin gasped, holding out a small roll of parchment. 

Slowly, Catelyn stood up, her face pale as one hand rested on her swelling belly. She said Komekko’s new baby brother would come soon, which was exciting as Komekko could barely remember when Rickon had been born. “What is it, Luwin? What has happened?”

Luwen pressed the note into Catelyn’s hands, unable to speak, his lip trembling. 

“Maester Luwin?” Komekko asked, getting up and hurrying over to her teacher. “Are you OK? Do you want some food?” she held out some of the bread she had been going to eat, hoping it would make Luwin feel better. Food always made her feel better. 

“No, child,” Luwin managed, kneeling and putting a hand on Komekko’s head. “I am… I am sorry.”

“Luwin,” Catelyn asked, her tone breathless, her hands trembling. “Is this… this cannot be true. All of them?”

Nodding, Luwin, looked up at Catelyn, his eyes still wet with tears. “I have not yet received further word, but I fear it likely. It is in Pycelle's own hand.”

“Mom?” Komekko said worriedly. Rickon began to cry at seeing his mother so frightened, and Catelyn scooped him up. A moment later, Komekko was in her mother’s arms as well, her heart thundering in her chest. “Mom?”

“Komekko, Rickon, I…” Catelyn hiccuped, tears flowing down her cheeks as she smoothed the hair of her children. “Your father, your elder siblings… they are all dead. Robert is dead, as are his wife and children. Stannis Baratheon has seized the Iron Throne.”

“Dad?” Rickon whimpered, clinging to his mother. 

Komekko couldn’t believe it. “No, they’re not. They… they can’t be! They were OK when they left! How can dad, and Megumin, and-” Komekko started to sob uncontrollably, clinging to her mother tightly. Even Bran the Baby seemed sad, kicking against mommy’s belly. 

After what felt like forever, mommy set Komekko at the table and took a deep breath. “Komekko...you are the Stark in Winterfell. You… you are the new Lady of the North. I… I shall aide you as I can, but-”

“Stannis has been bad,” Komekko growled, her hands balling into fists. She stood up slowly, her red eyes glowing as she looked to Maester Luwin “Tell everyone. Get Uncle Big Jon. Send for Auntie Maege and Dacey. Get Uncle Medger, and Uncle Robett, and… and EVERYBODY! Stannis Baratheon is going to pay. Maester Luwin! Get me my giraffe pen and parchment. I’m writing letters to everyone.”

“You are your father’s daughter,” Catelyn whispered, kissing Komekko on the forehead. “We’ll get you parchment. Maester Luwin will help you write.”

Komekko insisted on writing the letters herself, weeping hot tears onto the papers as she wrote, Hoost sitting at her feet, growling softly. She didn’t worry about the spelling very much, and mommy said it wasn’t that important. She got the important part down: Daddy, and Robb, and Yunyun, and Megumin, and Fat King Robert and Big Bro Kazuma and Myrcella and little Tommen, were all dead. And Stannis Baratheon had killed them. 

And Komekko was calling her banners. Because SHE was the grownup now. And it was time to make Stannis Baratheon pay. She didn’t even stop to eat. Komekko wasn’t hungry anymore. Not for food. 

Komekko affixed daddy’s seal, only, it was her seal now, to each of her letters. Grey, with a running direwolf on it. A copy was given to riders, another to a raven. They were dispatched throughout the North.

That night, when Osha was asleep, Komekko got out a knife, and cut her palm on it. Her eyes glowed red as she drew the circle in blood, chanting words she did not know, but her blood remembered. When she finished, she growled in a language not meant for mortal tongues, and a portal opened. From it, stepped two terrible beings. 

Both hand long horns on their forehead, and long talons on their fingers. One was a female, and had cloven feet and a tail that ended in a spike, while the other was male and had two dark leathery wings. 

“Mistress,” they intoned, kneeling before the little girl. “We hear and obey. What is thy will?”

“Maxwell. Regina. Someone killed my daddy, and my sisters, and my brother. I want revenge,” Komekko snarled. 

Maxwell, Duke of Pain and Suffering adjusted his glasses, his pale hair seeming to glow in the moonlight. “Oh? I take it this revenge shall be...painful?”

“He shall suffer seven times as greatly as my family did,” Komekko vowed. “Him, and everyone who helped kill my daddy.”

“Our vengeance shall be swift, and terrible,” Regina, Duchess of Revenge and Manipulation purred. “Blood for blood.” 

“You are to wait here, with me, until it is time for my banners to march south,” Komekko ordered, her red eyes unblinking and glowing with terrible power. “I want to be there when it is time for Stannis Baratheon to pay. He shall know what it is to face the wrath of the Cutest Little Sister of House Stark.”

That night, Komekko slept well with her two new dolls. When Osha saw them in the morning, the big woman looked afraid, wincing at the sight of the cute stuffed toys.

“Don’t worry, they’re not here for you,” Komekko told Osha. “I’m good. Daddy said.”

“And… Stannis?” Osha asked warily.

Komekko’s eyes gleamed again, burning with a dread intensity that did not belong in an eight year old’s face. “He’s been bad.”

  
  


========================================================================

Despite the relative heat of the day, the Wall did not weep. It stood as it ever had, gleaming white and blue in the last of the summer sun. White Ravens had come from the Citadel of Old Town: Winter Was Coming. And the Watch rode out to meet it. 

Lord Commander Mormont had sent word to the lords of the North that the Watch required aid, but so far, little had been forthcoming. Jon knew why: word hard arrived not a week ago: his father, the twins, and Robb, were all dead, slain by the Usurper Stannis Baratheon. And Komekko Stark had called the Banners. The Umbers had sent forth a contingent of their men, but half had turned back and answered the call of Winterfell. The North would march South to war, not to the Wall to a threat that may yet not materialize. 

A part of Jon desperately wished to respond to the call, to ride and avenge Megumin, and Yunyun, and his father, and Robb, and even Kazuma, who should have been king. Vanir, however, had talked him out of it, mad is it might seem. 

“My mistress shall avenge Eddard Stark, boy. You need not fear she shall allow such a slight to go unanswered. But moi feels a foul wind blowing from beyond yon barrier. Something stirs, boy who thirsts for battle for he has not seen it. Moi urges you to go forth and meet it. If it is beyond Wiz’s skills to battle, moi fears this foe shall be treacherous indeed,” Vanir told Jon. 

Jon had been about to go anyway when Ghost came over to him in his cell, putting his head on Jon’s lap. The wolf had looked up at him with red eyes, then sighed. He’d stepped away from Jon, looking to Vanir. 

“Hmm? Oh. Your companion, it seems, has aught to say to you,” Vanir told Jon. 

“Ghost? He’s a wolf. He can’t speak,” Jon said, frowning at the mad demon. 

When he looked back though,boy about his age with eyes the color of blood and skin pale as new fallen snow, dressed in a white tunic with an odd white cap on his head crouched there. Jon jerked back, shocked and baffled. “Ghost!?”

The boy held up a fist, shaking it up and down, then gestured to himself, followed by the tapping of his pointer and middle fingers together, then making an odd rising gesture with one hand. 

  
“Yes, my name is Ghost,” Vanir translated, and Ghost continued his gesticulations. “You named me, brother, and I am your faithful guardian. Please, listen. My mother, Holo the Wise Wolf, wished for us to go beyond the Wall.”

“Alright,” Jon said slowly, eyes flicking back and forth between Vanir and his now human wolf. “Vanir, what did you do to Ghost?”

“Moi has done nothing: Ghost is not merely a wolf, he is what thou would call an Old God, or perhaps a Child of the Forest.”

Ghost nodded his affirmative, then made more signs as Vanir interpreted. “I have no voice; I am the silent wolf. I come from a world far from here, called to be a hero once more. We must venture beyond the Wall. But, I will tell you a comfort: I do not mourn my sisters, nor my brother who went to the Land of the Seven Goddesses. I have not felt their deaths, nor has my mother. I believe they yet live, but they are beyond the sight of Old Gods.”

  
“Then, my father, Megumin, Yunyun, Robb? They… they live?”

Ghost shrugged. “He does not know, but he believes they do,” Vanir counseled. “Moi suggests we go beyond this wall. If thou wishes to safeguard thy family and friends, thou should go with thy newly adopted brothers.”

Ghost nodded, then rippled, going back to the form of a wolf, then sitting and looking expectantly at Jon. 

“He shall follow where you lead, O child of ice and fire. But moi would head the wisdom of thy furry brother. Moi has run across his type before: a hero out of legend. Thou could become one such, if thou would follow the path laid before thee.”

“I should write Lady Catelyn and tell her father might yet live,” Jon said, feeling immensely relieved. 

  
“And what wouldst thou say? That thy wolf and thy sister’s doll have told thee that they believe thy false sire lives?” Vanir asked in amusement. 

“Well no, but- what do you mean, false sire?” Jon demanded. 

“O-ho-ho! What delicious despair! Fear not, silly boy. Such things should not overly trouble you. You love this Eddard Stark, do you not?”

  
“Yes, he IS my father, whatever you say, demon,” Jon growled. 

“Moi shall not argue the point: arguing with mortals is like trying to hold back the tide. Even if one succeeds, one looks incredibly foolish simply for trying.”

And so, when the host of the Black Brothers rode forth, Jon rode with them. He had taken his vows before a Heart Tree three days before, kneeling on the frozen ground along with Sam, who followed the New Goddesses, but still said his vows beside Jon. Thankfully, they were not attacked by any wights during the vigil, likely because Ghost stayed on watch. He passed the twilight of night without incident, and now he wore the black cloak of a full Brother of the Night’s Watch. 

Jon rode with the Stewards, having been selected as Lord Commander Mormont’s personal dogsbody. He’d resented it, until Vanir had laughed at him and pointed out he was essentially Mormon’s squire, a position to be envied. Sometimes, Jon appreciated the demon’s company, but at other times, it was downright grating. Still, he had peace for a few days, as Vanir’s mask rested in his haversack, unmoving. 

“Tell me, Jon Snow, do you resent that we make common cause with the Wildlings?” Lord Commander Mormont asked Jon one night a few days into their journey towards the Fist of the First Men. 

Instead of answering right away, he stirred the pot of barley stew for a few moments longer, checking the rabbit’s meat that Ghost had caught for the Lord Commander’s supper. After sipping a bit of broth, he replaced the lid and turned back to Mormont. “A bit. I’ve seen the aftermath of Wilding raids with my father. Men killed. Women raped or dragged off to be taken back beyond the wall. Farms burned. The Wildlings are not our friends. And yet, I’ve also seen the dead walk, my Lord.”

  
Mormont nodded, giving a bit of corn to his pet raven, who let out a squawk and pecked it from his master’s gloved hand. “You know, I was Lord of Bear Island. We faced raids from Wildings coming down out of the Bay of Ice, and from Ironborn coming north with their damned longships. I have little love for wildings myself. But the Watch does not exist merely to ward off Wildings, as you well know.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed, shivering. “We were founded to shield the realms of men from the Great Other. I used to think that was over and done with since the defeat of the Kinslayer. Now, I wonder.”

  
“As do I. We  _ must  _ know what it is we truely face, Snow. And I will make common cause with even Mance Rayder against the Others. More importantly, I wish to find the Witch.”

“I… might be able to help with that,” Jon said slowly, glancing over to the corner of the tent. 

Vanir had begun to reform, but was still no bigger than the doll he typically appeared to be. He was drowsing now, something the demon had previously not done, but apparently passing beyond the barrier of the Wall had sapped him of a great deal of strength.

“Oh? Is there some Stark secret I was not privy to?” Mormont demanded, narrowing his eyes at Jon. 

In answer, Jon picked up Vanir, who yawned sleepily and held him up. “My Lord, do you recognize this doll?”

“Why, I’ve seen it’s like at the Witches shop,” Mormont said, taking the mini Vanir from Jon’s hands. 

“Oh, moi assures you, oh man who came to die but found life instead, thou has never had a friend like moi.”

The Lord Commander let out an oath and chucked Vanir into the fire. 

“Don’t ask him about a friend like moi,” Jon advised as the Old Man took up his sword, his eyes wide. “I still have nightmares about… whatever that was.”

“Thou simply lacks an appreciation for musical theater, a malady moi shall have to remedy for this world,” Vanir declared, picking himself out on stubby legs and wobbling out of the fire, not the slightest bit singed.

“A demon,” Mormont gasped, whirling on Jon. “Snow, what have you brought among us?”

“Oh do relax, O man who wishes his son would join him in exile. Moi is indeed a Duke of Hell, but moi is a friend to Wiz, who thou seeks. If moi can assist in locating the perpetually impoverished shop keeper, moi shall do so. And, as a bonus, moi shall also help dispose of these wretched frostbitten undead,” Vanir offered.

“He’s mostly harmless,” Jon reassured Mormont. “And he seems to be powerful, and know of Wiz. He could aid us.”

“Moi is indeed offering to aid you, O leader of men who ward against the unknown. Moi has some experience dealing with the undead,” Vanir informed the still startled Lord Commander.

“Who, or what, are you?” Mormont growled pointing his sword at Vanir. 

“Ah! An excellent question! Moi is, in fact, currently a construct of earth, animated by the magical energies bound within my mask which my Mistress, Komekko Stark, has summoned and bound to her will. As for who, moi has the pleasure of being Vanir, Duke of Pride and Humiliation!” 

The name seemed to catch Mormont off guard. “Vanir? Snow, is that true?”

“That’s what Komekko always called him. I used to think he was just a doll, but he’s proven to be rather more lively than a simple toy,” Jon admitted. 

“You… you are the old companion of the Witch?” Mormont demanded, kneeling down to peer into Vanir’s face. 

“If thou means dearest Wiz, indeed! We were generals in the Devil King’s army, and it was moi who first showed her the secrets of immortality!” Vanir declared. 

“Devil King? Like in the books of the Southron Godddesses?,” Mormont muttered, stroking his long beard. 

“Ah, that poor fool is long since dust, defeated by a group of most unlikely individuals, who were more a collection of character flaws and personality defects than an Adventuring Party, yet somehow they struck down the mightiest of foes despite their own best efforts,” Vanir laughed. 

“I… see,” Mormont said slowly. He nodded, looking thoughtful. “I suppose when we go to face the others alongside the wildlings, I should not be picky in my choice of allies. Even if you are a denizen of the Seven Hells.”

“Oh no, moi is no mere denizen of hell. Moi is the ruler of the Second Hell. One would wish to point out that at least there, it is much warmer.” 

“You know, I think it says something about my time on the Wall that spending a few years roasting alive doesn’t sound quite so bad anymore,” Mormont sighed. “Very well, Snow. I suppose you and Master Vanir could indeed prove useful. Can he fight?”

“I haven’t seen him do so, but he has odd powers, and he claims he can help locate Wiz, which I understand is of some importance,” Jon explained. 

Mormont grimaced. “Aye. That it is. Very well. We’re drawing near to the Witches Shop. We’ll see what can be learned there on the morrow. Perhaps Vanir will show himself to more than a child’s plaything.”

It was quite a shock to the Black Brothers the next day to suddenly have a dapper gentleman in a mask striding alongside them, especially given his odd mannerisms and way of speaking. However, when Vanir proclaimed himself to be a friend and companion to Wiz, most of the men simply nodded and accepted this. If there was one thing they knew about the witch, it was that she was a strange being indeed. 

As they approached the Witches Shop, Vanir frowned, sniffing the air. “Moi detects the undead, and in large numbers. And something in the air… yes. A barrier. Wiz is under siege. Come! We must make haste!”

“The Others, here?” Mormont gasped. “Impossible! They never venture so near to-” he cut himself off, raising his hand. “TO ARMS! WIGHTS AND WORSE APPROACH!” 

Indeed, they had just fallen into a battle order when a venerable horde of wights shambled out of the trees ahead, approaching at a dead run, their blue eyes glowing even in the daylight. 

“ARCHERS!” Qhorin Halfhand roared. “Make ready to-”

  
“Such filthy things! And not a drop of despair amongst them! Feh, moi shall handle this,” Vanir proclaimed, and snapped his fingers. Before the Watch, the earth rippled, and dolls much like Vanir emerged, giggling as they trundled forward towards the swarm of wights. The undead snarled and lunged for the constructs, which proved to be the last thing they ever did. 

No sooner had the wights fallen on the mini-Vanirs then they exploded in a rippling series of blasts that sent a gust of wind back, staggering the Night’s Watch. The first rank of Wights was utterly demolished, leaving behind only a few twitching limbs. But with another snap of Vanir’s fingers, more earthen dolls ran forward, eagerly rushing towards the remaining undead, which were either dragging themselves forward on mangled limbs, or standing after being knocked over. Another wave of detonations resounded, and then the air was still, save for the swirling of dust and smoke. 

“O-ho-ho! What delicious despair from you mortals!” Vanir chortled, placing his forearm against his head. “Ah! Moi feasts well this day! Come, there are more ahead, if you foolish men are so eager yet to slay them, moi shall leave a few for you.”

“That’s, ah, quite alright,” the Halfhand managed, goggling at the destruction. “Goddesses be good, I never thought… you are a friend of the Witch, aren’t you, creature?”

  
“Moi is no creature, foolish mortal. Moi is a Duke of Hell! Now come! Moi wishes to inspect this barrier Wiz has erected.”

Two more attacks by the undead came, but Vanir annihilated each of them easily, despite both consisting of over a hundred wights each. No Others were spotted, but scouting parties rode forth to attempt to find the beings that were raising such a large mass of wights. After a short time, they came to what Jon could only assume was the barrier Vanir had been talking about. It was a patch of air that rippled and shimmered with a pale blue light, and when one placed a hand near it, a deep cold could be felt. 

  
“Do not touch; moi fears thou wouldst lose a limb or worse,” Vanir told Jon. “A moment. Moi is familiar with this spell. One merely needs to key to open it. And...ah. Simple, when one knows how.”

The air cracked and popped, and the blue glow faded. Jon could now see the cluster of houses and odd plant life, and wondered if Wiz was as odd as Vanir. The force of Black Brothers had not gone far, however, before an arrow buried itself in Vanir’s chest. He glanced down, frowning in irritation, but apparently unharmed. 

“THAT’S FAR ENOUGH, CROWS! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE WITCH’S BARRIER?” a female voice shouted. 

“Moi has merely dispelled it for the time being, O fiery mortal who weds a spear but not a man,” Vanir shouted back. “Pray do not fight these other mortals; moi would hate for thee to waste thy energy upon the living when the dead deserve it so much more.”

“We’re yet living, you damned fool!” Mormont shouted, standing in his saddle. “We’re here to find the Witch, and reinforce Mance! We’ve no quarrel with you!”

A girl with red hair wielding a bow poked her head up from behind a fallen tree, scowling at the Night’s Watch. “If you mean us no harm, why’d you go and drop the barrier? That was all that's keeping the White Walkers and their minions from killing us!” 

“Do relax, dear girl,” Vanir said, pulling the arrow from his chest and tossing it aside in a nonchalant motion. “Moi can restore the barrier easily enough, but such a thing would not have kept you safe forever. It was weakening, and would have failed in oh, a week or so by moi’s reckoning.”

That got the wilding to go even paler than she already was. “A week? But… who are you, exactly? You’re no crow, though you wear black.”

“This is Vanir. He’s a friend of Wiz’s,” Jon said, stepping forward. He raised his hands, showing them to be empty. “We mean you no harm. Tell us, is the Witch here?”

“Aye. But… well, come. Best if you see for yourself, crow. We’re all bloody well doomed,” the wildling spat, then stood and turned towards the buildings. 

Mormont brought Jon, Qhorin, and a few other senior officers of the watch with them as they walked towards the buildings. They found more Wildlings in prepared positions, most of them elderly or young. They were all armed however, and even the toothless old grandmas looked as though they knew which end of their spears to use. It would have sickened Jon to fight them, but they were Wildings. The enemy. Or, had been, until the world went mad. 

Once inside the shop, Jon looked around in puzzlement at the odd assortment of goods. None of it looked like something that belonged beyond the wall, instead it was a menagerie of brightly colored clothing in odd styles, queer toys and games, and impractical looking equipment such as a “portable commode” that appeared to be a wooden bucket with raisable screens around it. 

“She’s back here,” the red-headed wildling said, gesturing behind a door. “We keep an eye on her, but...she won’t wake. Don’t do anything foolish, crows. Or it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Be at ease, girl. We’ll hold to the peace,” Mormont said, then ducked inside. Jon followed along with Vanir, and found himself in a small cramped room. A woman was laid out on the bed, with long brown hair obscuring her face. She looked queer, and as Jon appraoched, he saw she was translucent. 

“Goddesses preserve us, what has happened to her?” Mormont muttered as Vanir crouched by the bedside. 

  
“She is wounded,” Vanir said, his normally jovial tone gone grim. “And fading. Jon Snow, moi must beg of you a favor.”

“Yes?” Jon asked, crouching beside Vanir as the devil pulled off his white gloves. 

“Wiz must be restored, ere she fades before long. She was likely using the last of her magic to fuel that barrier, fool that she is. Moi cannot restore her; only the vitality of the living may do that.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, frowning. 

“Your life force. I must transfer some of it to Wiz. Moi must beg your leave to do this, as the process is painful.”

“She’ll die otherwise?” Jon asked, peering down at the woman. She was quite lovely from what he could tell, though she was a near ghost and appeared sickly. 

“She is already dead. She will cease to exist,” Vanir explained. “Wiz is a lich.”

  
“What?” Mormont hissed, taking half a step back. “Her? One of the Others? That is-” he paused, frowning. “That makes sense, I suppose. She is thousands of years old. But why-”

  
“We have not the time. Willst thou consent, Jon Snow?” Vanir demanded. 

Slowly, Jon took off his own glove, then held his hand out to Vanir. “If she’s the one who’s saved all these people… then, yes. I-” He let out cry of pain as Vanir seized his hand, putting his other palm on Wiz’s forehead.

“Drain Touch.”

Despite the pain, Jon soon felt lethargic and weak, his eyelids fluttering. After a minute, he slumped over, unable to keep kneeling. As consciousness faded, his last thought was that perhaps trusting a demon wasn’t the wisest thing he’d ever done. 

End Book 1. 

Cast of Characters; 

_ Lady Komekko Stark as; You do NOT !@#$ with the Crimson Demon Clan _

_ Catelyn Stark: Don’t fuck with mama wolf neither.  _

_ Vanir is; Man, this guy just SCREAMS trustworthy, amright?  _

_ Jon Snow as; Knowing nothing _

_ Ghost as; Wolf Link. No, really.  _

_ And introducing:  _

_ Regina as; Duchess of Revenge and Manipulation (seems she got downgraded from Goddess) _

_ Maxwell as; Still torturing Alderp, thanks.  _

_ And Ygritte as; First Girl Wins, right?  _

_ Full Cast List in (rough) order of appearance: _

_ Kazuma Sato as; Joffrey “Baratheon” if he wasn’t a douche. _

_ Tyrion Lannister as; Chaddest of Lions. _

_ Robert Baratheon as; Fs in Chat Boys. _

_ Komekko as; Bran Stark, and Cutest and Most Terrifying Sister of the House of Stark. _

_ Megumin as; Arya Stark, MISTRESS OF BAKURETSU. _

_ Comrade Yunyun as; Sansa Stark, Commissar of Friendship. _

_ Catelyn Stark as; Momma Wolf, with Bran Stark ETA 3 months. _

_ Eddard Stark as; HE LIVES! SUCK IT, CANON! _

_   
_ _ Rickon Stark as; Himself. But with a weird watch. _

_ Iris Shining Sword Belzerg as; Daenerys Targaryen, if she lifted, bro. _

_ Viserys Targaryen as; having come to the dawning realization of how boned planetos is early on. _

_ Khal Drogo as; We hardly knew ye. _

_ Jorah Mormont as; Not having the hots for Iris. _

_ Cersei Lannister as; Bitch Queen of Dumb Luck. _

_ Myrcella as; Kazuma’s Lil Sis, and honestly much happier for it. _

_ Tommen as; Onii-sama will protect me! _

_ Robb Stark as; He did the mash, he did the Monster Mash!  _

_ Jon Snow as; Wait, shit, he was supposed to live for at least four more books, right? _

_ Jamie Lannister as; Not the Only Kingslayer in Town. _

_ Sandor Clegane as; This was a triumph, I’m making a note here: Huge Success.  _

_   
_ _ Jory Cassel as; It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction, and believe me I’m still alive. _

_ Theon Greyjoy as; Oh yes. I’m certain taking an eldritch abomination to bed is a great idea. _

_ Claire Shinfornea as; Asha Greyjoy, Pirate Queen of the Narrow Sea. _

_ Note: Claire insists she is not a pirate. _

_ Earl Harlaw as; Mr. Harlaw. Apparently, the New Way is British.  _

_ Darkness as; Margaery Tyrell, Knight Pervert of the Seven Kingdoms. _

_   
_ _ Brienne as; The maid of Tarth, she took some hearts, all on a Summer’s knight. _

_ Chris as; Edric Dayne. Ugh, stop bothering me, mom! _

_ Olenna Tyrell as; So over this nonsense.  _

_ Petyr Baelish as; Really should have read the rules of this game. _

_ Varys the Spider as; Enigmatic as ever. _

_ Stannis Baratheon as; Stan the Man with a Plan to Rule the Land. _

_ Dust as; Trystane Martell, Kazuma’s Bro and still kind of a perverted dork.  _

_ Lean as; Shireen Baratheon. She’s got a heck of a tail to tell.  _

_ Rain as; Lancel Lannister. And possibly a pirate?  _

_ Vanir as; Simply moi. Could moi be anyone else? _

_ Hoost as; Summer the Direwolf, if he were a blue-collar demon turned into a werewolf who was also an old god. _

_ Chomusuke as; Nymeria the Direwolf, except her mistress is somehow even crazier. _

_ Tsume as; Grey Wind, bringer of Lycanthropy. _

_ Link as; Ghost, the Hero of Hyrule. _

_ Garurumon as; Shaggy Dog. Yes, that makes Rickon one of the digidestined. No, it won’t come up.  _

_ Senko-San as; Lady the Direwolf, Friendship Crusader. _

_ Cecily the Lewd Lesbian as; Septa Mordane, and also the High Sparrow. Hoo boy.  _

_ Aqua as; The Maiden. Only, you know, real. And kinda dumb.  _

_ Eris as; The Smith. Only she makes it rain, boyz.  _

_ Madokami as; The Father. Except, you know, a woman. And also ultra powerful.  _

_ Athena as; The Warrior, and chooser of the Stormborn, Saint of Battle.  _

_ Ristarte as; The Crone, if she looked about 20, had a smokin’ bod, and granted healing powers.  _

_ Satella as; The Stranger, who welcomes all into the embrace of death. _

_ Hestia as; The Mother, and jumping Bell’s bones every chance she gets.  _

_ Holo the Wise Wolf as; The Old Gods, and the Last Wolf. _

_ Nyarko-san as; The Drowned God, and hoo boy, Theon is not ready for this. DEATH BY SNU-SNU, _

_ Kefka Palazzo as; Rh’llor the Lord of Light. He’ll keep everyone warm, forever, and put a smile of madness on everyone’s face.  _

_ Arthas Menathil as; The Great Other.  _ **_IN THE END, ALL SHALL SERVE._ **

**End Credits Bonus Scene: Kazuma v. Joffrey**

Yawning, Kazuma smacked his lips and scratched at himself as he rolled out of bed. He blinked, looking around the room. Where was he? Nothing was right. It looked about the same shape and size, but where were his books? Where were the Cyrvasse pieces neatly lined up on the shelves to display his collection?

“What the heck?” Kazuma mumbled, and slid out of his bed, his feet padding on the ground. He found a large crossbow in a place of prominence, along with the stuffed and mounted heads of several game animals. “Ugh. Gross.”

Scratching at his head, Kazuma went to the window and peered out. Everything looked normal enough. The Red Keep bustled with activity, and he recognized some of the servants. He spotted Aron Santegar moving about the yard. 

  
“Yo! Aron! You seen Sandor around?”

The master at arms glanced up, frowning, then did a double take. “Er, he was with you, your Highness.”

  
“What? That doesn’t sound right.” Kazuma leaned back in, glaring around his room. This would not do. He’d have nothing to read, and without his Cyvasse collection, things were looking dire as far as entertainment options went. Sighing, Kazuma went to get dressed. For some reason, all his clothes were just a bit too big, which was irritating enough, and Masamune was gone. Not that he was going to bother wearing the sword if no one was making him, but he was a bit disappointed as he rather liked it. 

Stepping outside, Kazuma found his uncle Tyrion walking by. 

  
“Morning, Tyrion. Hey, you know what happened to my room? Someone messed with my stuff.”

Tyrion froze in his tracks, his head slowly turning to look at Kazuma. “A good morning to you, nephew. Are you accusing me of ransacking your chambers?”

“What? No. I thought maybe you’d played a prank or something,” Kazuma said, rubbing the back of his head and frowning. “You OK? You’re looking at me all funny.”

“Are you quite well, Joffrey?” Tyrion asked, cocking his head to one side. 

“Joffrey? Who the hell is Joffrey?” Kazuma demanded. 

Tyrion blinked. “I… I had thought you were… but you’re wearing the prince's clothes.”

“Duh. I’m the prince. Man, what is going on today? You want me to call a maester for you or something, Tyrion? You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I...no. I think-”

“Well, OK. I’m gonna find out who the hell took all my books and messed with my Cyvasse collection. I bet it was Myrcella or Tommen, they’re always borrowing stuff and not telling me. We can use your board for our game this afternoon, right? Later.”

Kazuma walked off, leaving a stunned Tyrion in his wake. He hurried through the halls of the Red Keep, frowning when servants dashed out of his way, their eyes widening in fright when he went by. He was so distracted by it he bumped into a maid, causing her to drop her bundle of laundry.

  
She dropped to her knees, looking horrified. “My Prince! F-forgive me, I-”

  
“Nah, it’s OK,” Kazuma said, taking the girls arm and helping her up, then bending over to help with the laundry. “Look, I wasn’t trying to steal anyone’s underwear. Just, er, keep this quiet, alright? My dad had a fit the last time they caught me with a girl's panties.”

“I, er, thank you? My Lord?” the maid stammered, gazing at Kazuma with a dumbstruck expression

“No problem,” Kazuma called as he ran on. 

When he found Myrella and Tommen’s rooms empty, he got a very confused guard to tell him where they were, and hurried off to the gardens. He had just entered them when he heard Myrcella crying, and Tommen begging for someone to stop. A burning rage filled Kazuma, and he dashed towards the noises of distress. 

He found a tall, blond boy looming over his younger siblings, holding up a yowling Lion-O as Sandor stood to the side, looking irritated. 

“-just some stupid cat!” the boy was saying, sneering down at the begging Tommen. “You can find them anywhere in the castle! I ought to drown this filthy stray and-”

  
“YO! ASSHOLE!” Kazuma roared, leaping forward. The boy had just enough time to turn to Kazuma, a perplexed expression on his face, before Kazuma’s fist slammed into the smug prick. A part of Kazuma realized the boy could have nearly been his twin, but most of him just did not give a damn. 

  
“PICK ON MY SISTER AND BROTHER WILL YOU!?” Kazuma shouted, continuing the merciless pummeling. “I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE MYRCELLA AND TOMMEN CRY!” 

Despite the fact that the other boy was a bit bigger than he, the element of surprise and the sheer rage that Kazuma felt was enough to allow him to reduce the other boy to a whimpering, weeping mess on the ground in only a few seconds, as his stunned siblings looked on in shock. It wasn’t until Sandor recovered from his own astonishment and hauled Kazuma off of the bully that he quit.

“Ow, ow, OK, I get it, I’ll stop!” Kazuma said, glaring at Sandor, who was holding him up in one gauntleted hand. “But how could you just stand there and let this prick bully Tommen and Myrcella! I don’t give a damn who he is, no one gets to bully them! Don’t you know how to do your job? You’re supposed to protect us, not let some jackass hurt them.”

“I…” Sandor frowned, cocking his head to one side. “Just who in the Seven Hells are you, boy, and why are you attacking Prince Joffrey?”

“I’ve never heard of any Prince Joffrey,” Kazuma scoffed. “And that dipshit was asking for it!” 

“I...I’ll have your head for this!” the other boy screeched, standing up with a swollen face and blacked eye that was already developing a nice purple hue. “No one attacks the Crown Prince and lives!” 

“Crown Prince of what, the Eighth Kingdom of Assholes?” Kazuma demanded. “Put me down, Sandor. I’ll show this moron what it is to mess with the Heir of Robert Baratheon! Dad always wanted me to fight, and right about now, I’m feeling it!” 

Tommen and Myrcella were gaping up at Kazuma, clutching at Lion-O. “Who...who are you?” Myrcella sniffed. 

“What?” Kazuma suddenly wriggled in Sandor’s grip, and shouted, “ESCAPE ARTIST!” and landed. He quickly moved to Myrcella, who flinched away, looking frightened. “Hey, Lil Sis, it’s me. Your Big Bro. You don’t need to be afraid, I’ll keep this-”

Kazuma cut off and grabbed both Tommen and Myrcella, covering them with his body as something warned him of imminent danger. The air where his head had been hissed, and he rolled over to find Joffrey glaring at him, Masamune in hand.

  
“You took my sword!” Kazuma accused. “It was you! You screwed up my room, stole my stuff, and you’re bullying my siblings?! Oh, it’s on!” 

“This is Lion’s Tooth, fool, and it is the sword of-”

  
Kazuma extended his hand, his blood boiling. “STEAL!” Masamune appeared back in his grip, and Joffrey stumbled back, looking at Kazuma in terror. 

  
“W-wait! S-Sandor, stop him! I am the prince, I command you to-”

“Sandor, hold this,” Kazuma said, shoving the sword at the very confused and uncertain shield. “This guy and I are about to have a, what do you call it?”

“R-reasonable talk?” Joffrey stammered. 

  
“A beating. Yes. We’re going to have a beating,” Kazuma declared, cracking his knuckles.

However, Sandor decided enough was enough, and collared both Kazuma and Joffrey. “I’m taking you to the queen. She can sort this mess out.”

Tommen and Myrcella trundled along behind as Sandor took the whining Joffrey and still irate Kazuma towards the queen’s chambers. 

“When mother sees what you’ve done to me, she’ll have your head cut off, boy!” Joffrey simpered. 

“When mom sees what you did to Tommen and Myrcella, she’ll let me finish the asskicking you need, pal!” Kazuma vowed. 

They found Cercei in her chambers, arguing loudly with Robert about something or other. Probably his latest squeeze, which made Kazuma feel a bit sick. Why couldn’t his parents just get along? Before Sandor could interrupt them, Kazuma slipped his grasp again and moved to the center of the room. 

  
“Mom, dad, look, I know you’re angry and stuff, but, could you wait a moment? Tommen and Myrcella are here. Just… please. This idiot broke into the gardens and was harassing them. I apparently need your permission to finish teaching him why you don’t mess with the Baratheons.”

The king and queen interrupted their tirad, goggling at Kazuma. 

  
“Joffrey?” Cersei asked. “What are...your lord father and I are having a discussion. I will see to you later, my love, and-”

  
“Mother, this wretch dared touch me!” Joffrey interrupted, stepping forward and pointing at him. “I demand you have his head removed!” 

“Seven Hells, there’s two of you now?” Robert demanded, glancing back and forth between the near identical boys. “I’m not even drunk, and I’m seeing double!”

“No, he’s the fake! Would I ever hurt my beloved siblings?” Kazuma demanded. “Come on dad, let me kick his ass!”

“Father, I am your heir, you cannot allow this!” Joffrey screeched, his face going red and flushed. “I demand you kill him! Or have Sandor hold him while I beat him senseless myself.”

“Oh, so now you need someone else to fight your battles, jackass?” Kazuma demanded, drawing himself up and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re just some poser. The REAL son of Robert Baratheon wouldn’t need someone’s help to take on someone smaller than he is!” 

Cersei was looking back and forth between the two boys, her mouth open in shock. 

  
Just then, Tyrion waddled in. “Sister, something queer is going on with Joff. He- Oh. Well, this is quite the predicament. It seems there are two Joffreys.”

“No, I’m the real Joffrey, he’s a traitor and an imposter,” Joffrey sniffled. 

  
“I’m not Joffrey, I’m Kazuma Baratheon! Who the hell is Joffrey, and why does everyone act like it’s OK for him to pick on my siblings?! They’re royalty too!” 

“I… Cersei, which of these is your son?” the King asked, looking slightly cross eyed as he tried to examine both of the supposed princes. 

“Dad?” Kazuma spun around, feeling hurt beyond words. “You… you know I’m your son too, right? I know you think I’m kinda a disappointment but… you still love me, right? You know… you know that I want to be a great king like you someday, don’t you?”

Robert blinked rapidly. “Well. I don’t know what has happened, but Cersei, I like this one a fair sight better.”

“MOTHER! Don’t let father do anything to me,” Joffrey pleaded, cringing and trying to hide behind his shorter mother. 

  
Snarling, Kazuma whirled and stalked over to him. “Who are you, anyway? My evil twin? Get away from my mom!” 

  
Cersei, however, interposed herself. “I… I don’t know who you are, but, but I won’t let you hurt my son any further! Robert, see to it that this boy is-”

“Mom?” Kazuma asked, now feeling utterly lost and wounded. Tears blurred his vision for a moment, and he wiped them away. “Mom, it’s me. Your oldest son. You… you remember when you used to sing to me at night, or how you always have time to help take care of me when I get sick?”

  
Hearing that made Cersei look back and forth between Kazuma and Joffrey. She reached out a hand to Joffrey. “My son, you… you are Joffrey, aren’t you?”

“Don’t touch me, woman!” Joffrey spat, slapping the hand away. “You’re going mad like the rest, falling under this charlatans spell!” 

That sounded more like Joffrey to Cersei, but it also hurt her. She turned back to the other boy, who was a near mirror image of her beloved Joff and-

Kazuma wrapped his arms around Cersei. “Mom. Please. You… you know it’s me, right? Your son. I… I love you, mom. And I know you love me.”

“Don’t touch, her wretch!” Joffrey howled. “Sandor, Sandor make him stop!” 

Cersei, however, felt dazed. When had been the last time that Joffrey had hugged her like this? When he was seven? Six? She couldn’t recall. But she wrapped her arms around her son, closing her eyes. “My… my son. I do love you.”   
  


“I like him better too,” Myrcella opined as she pointed to Kazuma, and Tommen nodded vigorously. 

  
“He does seem rather more agreeable than the old Joffrey,” Tyrion agreed. 

  
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Joffrey screamed. “HE’S AN IMPOSTER! I’M THE REAL CROWN PRINCE!” 

Kazuma separated from Cersei, glowring at Joffrey. “Yeah? Wanna back that up with something other than words, asshole?”

“I think there’s one way to settle who my son and heir is,” Robert agreed.

  
An evil grin spread across Kazuma’s face, and he turned to the King, his green eyes dancing. “Single combat? Please say to the death.”

Joffrey jumped back. “What?! No! Father, you can’t-” 

“I’m the king, boy, and I can do what I damn well please!” Robert thundered. “Now prove if you’re a Baratheon or not, and face your supposed doppelganger like a man!” 

Joffrey backed away from Kazuma, who was edging forward. 

“For every tear you made Myrcella cry, I’m going to punch you. For every tear you caused Tommen, I’m gonna kick you,” Kazuma promised. “And then, when I’m all done, I’m not going to have Sandor, or Illiyan, or anyone else kill you. I’m gonna do it myself. No one, and I mean, no one, hurts my little sis.”

“M-mother?” Joffrey stammered.

“I believe you must be the imposter,” Cersei said coldly. “My son would know how to love his mother, and be her protector, instead of hiding behind me like a coward. Are you a lion, or a lamb?”

Joffrey looked around for allies, for someone he could order to fight Kazuma, but all he found were cold eyes looking back at him.

  
“Here, nephew,” Tyrion said, handing Kazuma a dagger. “I believe you may require this.”

“Thanks, Tyrion,” Kazuma said, flipping it over to hold the knife in a reverse grip. “I’ll give him a cut just for you.”

At that, Joffrey whimpered, pissed himself, and ran. Kazuma took off after him, but as Joffrey wasn’t a NEET who spent all his time napping and goofing off, and had slightly longer legs, he soon outpaced Kazuma. He had to flee the Red Keep, however, as Kazuma was relentless, even as he gasped for breath. Soon, Flea Bottom had a new orphan, a mad one who had the rags of fine clothes, and claimed to be a prince. 

Joffrey Baratheon, the first of his name, ended up dead in a ditch less than a week later. 

As for Kazuma, he got used to being called Joffrey, though quite a few people were happy enough to call him Kazuma and be quit of the cruel prince for good. Myrcella and Tommen were wary of him at first, but were soon delighted to have a loving Big Bro. Tyrion helped Kazuma get the proper books for his room, and some new Cyvasse pieces. Cersei appreciated having a son who loved her, and her mental stability improved slightly. As for Robert, he was happy enough to have a more respectful heir. He was disappointed Kazuma didn’t seem to enjoy fighting as Joffrey had, but at least he didn’t torture cats and small children. 

And they all lived happily after. 

  
Well, not really, it was still Westeros after all. But happier, anyway. 

  
_ Fin _

_ A Clash of NEETs with return in Book Two: A Storm of Imotos.  _

_   
_ _ Coming January 2021.  _

_ Author’s Note: _

_ It’s been a wild ride these past few months, but we’re at the end of the first part of this story. First off, I’d like to extend a big thank you to my beta, The Grand Cogitator for helping me so much in crafting this story, and even contributing several excellent bits of backstory. I’d also like to thank everyone who has contributed to the TV Tropes page. I really enjoy looking at that and seeing what people make of the literary devices I’ve been using in this tale. A special thank you as well to everyone who has been active in the thread. I love the discussion and it’s been fun to talk about things with all of you and see what wild theories people come up with.  _

_ This isn’t the end of the story, far from it, but I need a break. Just on this story, I wrote about 150k words between the main narrative and Cecily’s guides on Spacebattles in the past few months, and that’s just a lot of output. I need to refresh myself a bit, then work on putting together book 2. I’ve already got quite a few chapters done, but this part is going to be more complicated and needs more polish before we embark on it. Either way, after the new year you can expect more updates.  _

_ In the meantime, let me know what you think of the story so far, and where you think things are going. I’d also appreciate any feedback on what did and didn’t work in the story for you, what the strong parts and weak parts were as that helps me improve as a writer. It’s also good to know what people enjoyed and want to see more of, as that helps me get to know my audience better. You can also check out my various other stories here on AO3, or take a look at the TV tropes page if you have time.  _

_ Until next time,  _

_ Full-Paragon _


	25. Begin Book 2: A Storm of Imoutos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on A Clash of NEETs:
> 
> Bobby B has died. The Seven Kingdoms have immediately decided now was as good a time as any to get their Civil War on. Now, Kazuma must face down his uncle(s?) to prove he’s the real king. Meanwhile, Iris Targaryen has accidentally started conquering Essos for her Big Bro, who would really rather she didn’t. Both sides must rely on their hidden super weapons: their little sisters. 

Book 2: A Storm of Imoutos

A cold breeze blew out of the east, fluttering the sails of the  _ Mermaid’s Tail _ and sending her rocking through the swells of the iron grey sea. A light drizzle was falling on the ship's deck, and the air was cold and frigid. Kazuma’s toes were numb as they gripped the slick boards of the deck, but he focused not on the pain, but on his opponent. 

Megumin stood a few paces away from Kazuma, poised on the balls of her feet, her wooden sword held in a steady one handed grip. Her dark hair clung to her head, and her red eyes watched Kazuma warily. 

  
“Begin,” Syrio ordered, and both of their weapons blurred into rapid motion. 

Back and forth across the deck the two fighters danced, sliding and shuffling with deliberate motions so as not to lose their footing. They had to dodge sailors and lines of rope swaying in the breeze, but neither lost focus, the sharp clack of their swords striking adding to the noise of a ship under way.

In the end, it was the footing that mattered the most. Kazuma slipped, his left foot sliding on the deck, and he stumbled to right himself. Megumin seized the chance, and her sword scored Kazuma’s ribs, knocking him fully off balance. The next thing he knew, her sword tip was at his throat. 

“Good. You are learning, girl,” Syrio said, stepping over as Megumin helped Kazuma back up. 

  
“Alright, what did I do wrong this time?” Kazuma grumbled. His luck wasn’t in that day, and he felt as though it hadn’t been in since his father had died. So much for being king.

When he’d been little, he’d dreamed of the day he would be king, but as he got older he’d realized that for that to happen, his father would have to be dead. Robert had been young, only thirty and six. Kazuma had thought he’d have years yet before he had to take the throne. Now, he wondered if he ever would. 

“Nothing,” Syrio answered, and both Kazuma and Megumin turned to frown at their sword master. 

“Nothing? But he lost,” Megumin pointed out.

  
“Just so. But it is possible to do everything right, and still lose. The footing here, it is treacherous. I watched your feet, you placed them carefully and well. Even so, the ship, she moves, and is wet. Sometimes, it is luck that decides the battle. Not skill.”

“Yeah, OK,” Kazuma agreed, rubbing at his sore ribs and grimacing. 

“Enough for today. You are learning all that Syrio can teach you for now.”

Megumin and Kazuma gave Syrio a bow, and their sword master headed below. Kazuma, for his part, went to the rail despite the cold, looking out over the misty waters. They were out of sight of land, trying desperately to stay away from Stannis’ hunting galleys. The sea was a wide place, but even so, if a warship did find them, they would have to pray Megumin or Yunyun’s magic was working. 

“You OK?” Megumin asked, coming to the rail beside Kazuma. 

  
He almost said yes, but he hung his head, closing his eyes as moisture beaded on his eyebrows. 

“No.”

Megumin didn’t say anything, but she did put her arm around Kazuma, and he leaned into her. They stood there for a time, swaying with the motion of the ship. Too much had happened, too much had changed in too short a time. So many people were dead now, people he had known for years. Kazuma hoped that somehow, Sandor had survived, but he doubted it.

“I miss him,” Kazuma said at last. “I know it’s weird. Dad mostly just ignored me, and when he didn’t usually it was to tell me off or make me do stuff I didn’t want to. But...but if he could come back, just for one day, to yell at me and tell me to practice with my sword and shield…” Kazuma couldn’t continue, and Megumin squeezed him hard.

“I know. I’m sorry. I love my dad too. If something ever happened to him... I don’t know what I’d do.”

Kazuma looked down at his hand, feeling angry and frustrated. “I have these stupid magic powers, but none of them could have saved my dad! Not even Cecily could do that! Why not!? Why...why did my dad have to die? Why did Stannis have to betray us? I don’t...how could he even say that my mom and uncle Jaime did those horrible things?”

“We’ll beat him,” Megumin promised. “Get me close enough, and I’ll explode him.”

“Thanks,” Kazuma sighed, resting his head against Megumin’s and taking her hand in his. He figured that, as long as she was with him, somehow, things would turn out alright. 

Neither of the pair saw their parents looking on from the poop deck. Cersei and Eddard were standing together under the shelter offered by a tarp erected there. 

“It will have to be soon,” Cersei told Ned. “We can’t wait any longer.”

“Aye. You’re likely right,” Eddard sighed. “I mislike the thought of my daughter being wed so young, but things have changed. There’s also the matter of the crowning.”

Cersei grimaced. Trust a man to have no stomach for the hard choices in life. 

“I take it there are not many Septons in the North? Cecily will have to do it. It will be odd, having an Axis Septa perform the ceremony, but there will be little choice. It will cost us some legitimacy, especially if High Septa Charity XIV crowns Stannis. Will Cecily do it?”

“I cannot be sure. She is queer, as you well know. I’d suggest that if the coronation happens in the North, that it happens in a godswood, in the sight of the Old Gods and New.”

“That would break tradition, but likely secure him the loyalty of your bannermen,” Cersei agreed. She glanced at Eddard. “Do you think Cecily could get Aqua to perform the crowning? If an actual goddess crowns Kazuma king, no matter where it happens it would be a mighty sign in our favor.”

“That I do not know. Would not such an act be blasphemous though? The goddesses bless the king, aye, but they stay out of the affairs of men.”

“It’s hardly blasphemy if a goddess does it, now isn’t it?” Cersei asked dryly. “Besides, we shall need all the help we can get. At best, we can count on the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the North. It seems Stannis will have the other regions as his own.”

  
“Unfortunately, I think you are correct. He likely has my fool son, and if he does the Reach will pledge to him.” 

  
Both Cersei and Eddard turned as Olenna Tyrell hauled herself up the stairs. She groaned, popping her back when she reached the top before coming to stand beside the dowager queen. 

“A risky campaign. Stannis will likely fall on Tywin before he even marshals his hosts. Then, he shall move on the Riverlands, and in turn, the North. One by one, you shall all fall.”

“Catelyn will have called the Northern Banners. They may even be marching south before we reach Winterfell,” Eddard said. He glanced at Olenna. “You are certain Mace will call his banners for Stannis? He has little love for the man, and he besieged Storm’s End during Robert’s Rebellion.”

“Oh, he’ll do it. The girl and I may have escaped with you fools, but I doubt Mace managed it. Stannis had things buttoned up too nicely. He was planning this before Robert was even dead,” Olenna growled, shaking her head in disgust. “That lie about Kazuma was nothing but a pretext. He has always resented his older brother, and thought Robert was a fool and a poor king. He was right, of course, but to attempt to murder his own nephews and niece is a disgrace. The man would make himself a kinslayer.”

“I would not have you speak ill of my late husband,” Cersei said stiffly, but Olenna made a rude noise. 

  
“What are you going to do, toss me over the side? We both know you loathed Robert as well, Cersei. I don’t blame you, if I’d had a husband who was unfaithful in addition to being a great fool, I’d likely have been tempted to murder him. Oh, don’t make that face at me. I don’t believe the vile rumors. Perhaps you were tempted to be unfaithful, but not with Jaime. I would have bedded a man or two myself after Luthor died if I’d been a decade younger. You’re young. Remarry, find someone you actually enjoy the company of and have some fun.”

“My grief is still too fresh. Besides, my taking a lover would undermine my son,” Cersei replied, sounding slightly strangled. She did look as though she wanted to toss Olenna over the side, and her hands were balled into white knuckled fists. “I doubt I will ever love a man.”

Olenna pursed her lips, studying Cersei. 

“Was that the problem? Tywin would force you to marry a man you had no interest in. Well. Give it time. Now, on to other matters. What do you intend to do with my granddaughter? Going to force her on Robb, or on Tyrion?”

Eddard blinked in shock, while Cersei laughed. 

“To the point, aren’t you?” the Queen Dowager asked. “I suppose you can negotiate on which. I would prefer to see her wedded to Tyrion myself, but I suppose Robb would not be a terrible choice, especially once Kazuma gets a child on Megumin.”

“They are not-that is, my son is not yet a man,” Eddard managed in a strangled tone. “And Ser Darkness is not yet a woman grown either!”

  
“That hardly matters. She’s older than Megumin, and marriage might calm the fool girl down,” Olenna scoffed. “Besides, you need the alliance, Stark. If you’ve not the stomach for it, I’ll talk to Cersei. She can be sensible about such things. Trust a woman who had to marry for politics to understand the realities of the situation.”

“I am not going to simply marry my son off to a girl he has no affection for, nor will I allow you to force a knight in my service to marry a man she has no interest in,” Eddard declared, glaring at both women. “Especially not when the girl may have conflicted loyalties with her father and brothers likely in Stannis’s hands! The girl has too much on her mind.”

Actually, Darkness had only one thing on her mind most of the time, and it was not printable in polite company. Usually, what Darkness thought about involved her being ravaged by several knights in ways no sane person would want, but that a masochist would rather enjoy. However, in recent days, that had changed, and if Eddard could see what Darkness was thinking of... well, first he’d be utterly mortified and scandalized, but he also might not protest on her behalf so strongly. 

However, her preoccupation currently was set aside, as she was down in the bilges, amidst the filth of the ship. Normally, the perverted knight would enjoy getting filthy and humiliated, but currently she was worried about something else. 

Robb Stark was lying in muck, breathing hard as Darkness crouched beside him, feeling worried.

“I told you to bind me and go!” Robb growled, looking up with glowing amber eyes, pointed teeth bared in a snarl. “It’s the full moon tonight! Grey Wind says it will be even harder to control! I’m not safe, Darkness!”

“I know!” Darkness gasped, shuddering slightly. Robb took it for revulsion and looked away. It was, however, anything but. 

Robb slammed his fist into the reeking water, snarling in anger. “If you stay, I could hurt you!”

“You think so?!”

“Darkness, when I warg, I lose all control! I turn into a beast, a monster!”

“A...a strong monster!?”

“Horrifyingly so! Stronger even than you! This time, I won’t even be injured! I could savage you repeatedly! I...I have to stop myself from attacking people now, from simply ravaging them with tooth and claw!” 

  
“Could...could you do that to me?” 

“Yes! If you don’t leave, I will!”

“Then I shall stay at your side! Please, take out your bestial passions upon me! Think of me as your personal training dummy, to rip and tear at me as much as possible!” 

Robb looked up, feeling horrified. 

“I would never willingly-” he paused, finally recognizing the gleam in Darkness’s eyes as not revulsion, but eager anticipation, much like Megumin before she went off on one of her mad tirades. 

“Why not!? Who else would you savage?! Brienne? Trust me, she would not enjoy it as I would!” Darkness swore, a look of envy and irritation passing over her face at the thought that Robb, this vile, animalistic man with such base, bestial desires, would want Brienne instead of her. It wasn’t fair! Brienne was taller than her, true, and a better swordswoman, but she was tougher! “I shall endeavor to train harder, to be a worthy match for you if that is what you desire! I...I shall even try to improve my sword play, though I confess, even after years of practice I often forget myself, simply giving in to the savage lust of battle and losing all grace and finesse.”

“I...er, I understand what you mean,” Robb reluctantly admitted. “But, Darkness, you know if you stay, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control myself. I...I have found myself desiring you, in a most inappropriate fashion.”

“You have!?”

“Yes...I confess, I found you attractive before. Your skill at arms is impressive, and I would be lying if I said I did not find you intriguing. You are much like Dacey Mormont, a woman I have long admired though she is twice my age. You are not like the other Southron women, soft and weak. You are strong, and capable. And...and while I am under the influence of my inner beast, I might attempt to violate you.”

Darkness blushed and looked away, hardly able to contain her excitement.

“I...I understand. Please, bind me and go.”

  
“No, you should bind ME!” Darkness told Robb, and thrust the ropes at him. “That way, I would not resist at all, and you could have your way with me as you desire!”

Robb blinked in confusion. 

“I...what? You understand, I mean...I mean I would take your maiden head.”

  
Darkness let out a high pitched sound, which at first Robb thought was a shriek of horror, but soon realized was, in fact, a cry of glee. 

“But, but Darkness, that...that would mean,” Robb suddenly growled, and shook his head. “My lady, I...I do not think our families would consent to our marriage so suddenly.”

  
“Oh.” Darkness considered this, then shrugged and pressed herself closer to Robb, eye’s gleaming. “Well, I don’t mind. I never wanted to be a proper lady anyway. I shall be your knight-concubine, your shield in battle, and then, at night, when your beast awakens, the one who shall tame your fiercest desires!” 

Robb, bless his heart, was a hormonal teenager, and having a six foot tall woman who was everything his addled male brain had ever dreamed of proved to be too much, and he grabbed Darkness, pulling her lips to his and forcefully kissing her, then biting at her neck before he realized what he was doing. He stopped, pulling back as he and Darkness both panted. 

“Why’d you stop?” Darkness gasped, looking disappointed. 

  
“I...I don’t know,” Robb admitted. And began again, to his lady’s delight. 

  
The two managed to keep their clothes on, though Darkness did get roughed up by Robb as the night passed and he fell further and further into the thrall of his warg form. He even managed to draw a little blood from Darkness, to her immense delight. In the end, however, they both passed out in the reeking water, exhausted, but content.

No matter the universe, some things never changed: neither Darkness nor Robb had much sense when it came to love and romance, though at least this time they had the good fortune to become involved with someone who was both of their station and politically advantageous - and who could hold up with them within and without the bedroom. 

Speaking of good sense, the next morning Yunyun was helping Myrcella with her hair, brushing it out before putting it up on a simple braid. Due to their rushed escape, they had been unable to take more than a few clothes and toiletries with them on the journey, but a hairbrush had helpfully been provided by Lady, who was currently in the form of a young girl and doing Yunyun’s hair. 

  
By this point, everyone was well aware that the three supposed dire wolves were, in fact, old gods, and fully capable of taking on humanoid forms. Grey Wind typically refused to do so, much preferring to remain in his wolf shape, even if he did have to shrink down to the size of a medium sized dog. He was currently wet and miserable, and very sea sick. Chomusuke was even worse off, whatever form she took, and spent most of her humanoid time clutching to the railing and vomiting, no matter what the sea looked like. 

In contrast, Lady was the picture of happy health, and while she did fuss over her siblings, the Helpful Wolf seemed to suffer no ill effects from the sea at all, much like her mistress who had adapted easily to life on the waves. While quite a few people were still nervous about having a girl with wolf ears and a tail walking around, the fact that she was clearly Yunyun’s best friend and just as bright and cheerful as her human sister made adapting to the changes much easier. 

“Your hair is so nice and long, Yunyun! I should grow mine out, but whenever I try to I always end up shedding. I can’t hardly do anything with it, it’s such a disappointment,” Lady chatted as she brushed away at Yunyun’s hair. 

“I like your hair though, it’s a nice red color,” Myrcella said, glancing back at Lady and smiling timidly. The poor girl was still having a hard time with the death of her father and being ripped away from everything she knew, but with Yunyun and Lady’s help she was adapting. 

“Oh thanks! It was even redder back when I was a fox instead of a wolf,” Lady said brightly. 

“You were a fox?” Yunyun asked curiously. 

  
“Yep! I was a fox spirit, I lived up by Deepwood Motte! I kept the Glovers' hunters safe in the woods, and made sure they caught lots of game! They left me lots of offerings.”

“How’d you turn into a wolf then?”

“Oh, um, well…” Lady looked hesitant, then admitted. “I sort of…almost died. Three hundred years ago, when the Kinslayer came north. I fought with the Glovers to try to keep my followers safe, but...I was mortally wounded. Holo found me, and had to plant me as a weirwood for a few centuries. When I woke up again, she reincarnated me as a wolf spirit. I wasn’t a very old goddess in the first place, only about 500 years old. There aren’t that many of us left, you know.”

Myrcella nodded, looking hurt and thoughtful.

“I understand. Lots of my friends have died too. I...I thought uncle Stannis was my friend, but...but…”

“Shhh, it’s OK,” Yunyun said, wrapping Myrcella in a hug. Lady slipped back into her wolf form, and nuzzled the distraught princess, who buried her face in the wolf’s fur. After a few hiccups, she felt better and they headed out to the deck to take in the fresh air, as well as look for land, as the captain had indicated they should be nearing White Harbor soon. 

Just after midday, the misty rain lifted, and the line of sight improved sharply. Lady had clambered up to the top of the mast, a feat that baffled and somewhat worried the crew, especially since as they put it, “wolves shouldn’t climb.” Lady didn’t seem to be aware of this restriction, and happily called out to a few sea birds, who landed and spoke with her for a few minutes before flapping away again. 

“They say we’re almost there!” Lady called down to Yunyun. “We should see land really soon!” 

Indeed, with the mist gone, they soon saw the coast on either side as they entered the narrow northern neck of The Bite. The shore they could see was stony, with familiar northern trees like leather leaf and the ubiquitous pines near to the water’s edge. They were still a good ways away from the city, however, and it was near a full day’s worth of sailing before the city came into sight, a few hours after dawn. The voyage had taken nearly three weeks, with poor winds and the need to keep well out to sea to avoid pursuit from galleys slowing their progress. 

In fact, as they neared White Harbor, Yunyun grew nervous as two galleys rowed out to meet them, though she relaxed slightly when she saw they bore the Merman banner of House Manderly. 

“HO THERE!” A voice bellowed across the water. “FROM WHERE DO YOU COME, AND WHO BE THE MASTER OF THIS SHIP!” 

The captain put his hands to his mouth and thundered back.

“THIS IS THE  _ MERMAID’S TALE _ , CAPTAINED BY NYROS STRONGOAR! BUT COMMAND BELONGS TO LORD EDDARD STARK, HAND OF THE KING AND WARDEN OF THE NORTH!”

“SAY AGAIN!?” the first voice demanded. “EDDARD STARK LIVES?!”

“AYE, BY THE GRACE OF THE GODS OLD AND NEW, I DO,” Eddard shouted. “WE HAVE ABOARD HIS GRACE, KING KAZUMA BARATHEON, AND HIS KINSFOLK, ALONG WITH MYSELF AND MY HOUSEHOLD!”

A loud cheer erupted from the two galleys, and one quickly turned about, racing back towards White Harbor at top speed. 

  
“PRAISE THE SEVEN! WE THOUGHT YOU DEAD, MY LORD! WE’LL ESCORT YOU BACK!” 

The last few miles of the voyage seemed to drag by, and Kazuma felt slightly sick to his stomach, glancing nervously up at Eddard.

“You...you really think…? I mean, I know my dad’s dead, but…”

“You are the king, now, Kazuma,” Eddard told the boy, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be crowned when we arrive at Winterfell, as I believe it likely most of my bannermen will be there by now, or on their way. We’ll dispatch a raven and tell them to assemble and await your coming.”

  
Kazuma nodded, looking faintly green.

“Yeah, I know, just...my dad was the king. If I am, then...then he really is gone.”

“I loved Robert as well, son,” Eddard said, squeezing Kazuma’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your mother, myself, and your uncles will advise you as we reclaim your throne from your treacherous uncle.”

Kazuma’s expression darkened, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Stannis has a lot to answer for. Sandor’s probably dead, along with a lot of good men. And...and more are going to die before this is over, aren’t they?”

“If Stannis was willing to become a kinslayer to make himself king, I doubt he will flinch at spilling blood on the battlefield,” Eddard agreed. 

_ The Mermaid’s Tale _ pushed through the swells of White Harbor, following the galleys through the dark blue waters. Though it was only a tenth the size of King’s Landing, White Harbor was still the largest city in the North, and was a hub of industry. Hundreds of small fishing boats and trading galleys lined the piers, and even a few larger ships from Essos and beyond. Unlike King’s Landing, White Harbor was a neat, orderly city, with clean streets and houses made of whitewashed stone along wide cobbled streets. The stench near the docks was what one would expect of a harbor town, though away from the water it was less putrid. 

As they approached the docks, sailors, fishermen, merchants, guards, and even a few nobles crowded the pier. Upon spying Eddard Stark on the deck, they erupted in wild cheers, chanting “STARK! STARK! STARK!” and did not stop, even as boats raced to ferry the noble passengers to the pier. 

Even louder cheers erupted when Yunyun showed herself, with her waving enthusiastically to the crowd, and greeting many of them by name, as she had visited White Harbor several times over the years, which naturally meant she had many friends there. 

As for Kazuma, there were a few cheers for him, though the Northmen had little love for a boy king from the south. It did not especially bother Kazuma, who had never been overly fond of the adoration of crowds in the first place, though Cersei’s lips thinned, and she glowered from under her hood. 

They had not gone far when a litter raced down the cobblestone street, born by a dozen panting young men. Atop it was fat old Wyman Manderly, but he ordered the litter set down, and he scrambled off it, waddling forward to throw his arms around Eddard, tears on his face.

“My liege, we thought you lost,” he gasped. Then he knelt before Eddard, his eyes glittering with sharp cunning. “But you escaped. You have the boy with you?”

“He is your king, Lord Manderly,” Eddard said sternly. “You owe him your allegiance.”

The crowd grew silent, watching to see what would happen. This was the first true test of Kazuma’s power, to see if the Lords of the North would rally to his cause, or spurn him. 

Lord Manderly considered Kazuma for a moment, but a moment only. He drew his sword and became the first of the Northern lords to offer it to the new king, hilt first.

“If you’re good enough for Eddard Stark, your Grace, you’re good enough for me. I pledge myself, and my house, to your cause. My banners have already departed for Winterfell, under the command of my son, Wylis. Their swords are yours to command.”

Slowly, Kazuma reached out, his hand touching the pommel of the fat lord’s sword.

“I accept your oath, Lord Manderly. I shall lead with wisdom and virtue in the Light of the Seven. Rule your lands in my name, and under the leadership of my Warden of the North, Eddard Stark.”

“So mote it be,” Eddard Stark agreed. “Rise, Lord Manderly. We have much to do.”

Manderly heaved himself up, nodding.

“Aye, that we do. You being alive changes things, Lord Stark. We were ready to move south and wreck bloody vengeance under your daughter’s leadership.”

That got Eddard to start.

“Komekko? She leads the banners?” he asked, surprised.

  
“Oh, aye, that she does,” Manderly chuckled. “She might be young, but she’s a Stark. They say she’s got a sword, and a wildling spearwife as her shield, and intends to lead the troops from the front herself.”

“I believe that will not be necessary,” Eddard said firmly.

“I mean, as long as she listens to Vanir, she should probably be fine. He’s weird but he probably knows about leading armies,” Megumin opined, causing her sister to elbow her. 

Eddard slowly turned to look at her.

“I recall once you told me Vanir was real. What, exactly, did you mean by that?”

“He’s like Chomusuke, I think,” Megumin said, glancing at her wolf. Chomusuke rippled and turned into a young woman, causing Lord Manderly to cry out an oath and clutch at his chest and shouts erupted from the crowd. 

“Vanir is just about the last individual you want leading an army,” Chomusuke stated. “Even if he’s as old as most gods, and far older than I am now, he’s far too mercurial to be a good leader. She’d be better informed listening to Hoost, though I don’t know that he ever led mortal troops.”

“S-Seven preserve us, Ned, who, what…” Manderly swallowed, sweat beading on his forehead as he forgot all his graces. 

“I am not one of your New Goddesses,” Chomusuke said icily, her ears twitching slightly. “I am of the North.”

“It seems my children have acquired Children of the Forest as companions,” Eddard said, speaking loudly. “They are the blood of the Last Wolf. The Goddesses, Old and New, walk amongst men once more. These are dark times.”

“And...and you support King Kazuma?” Lord Manderly managed, using his sleeve to dab at his forehead. 

Chomusuke glanced at Kazuma, and shrugged. “As he is to be mate to my sister, I shall follow him as pack leader. I cannot speak for all the Old Goddesses; for we are not one pack. But my mother has ever favored House Stark, and I shall do the same.” Then, Chomusuke dropped back on all fours, resuming her wolf form. 

“Well,” Eddard Stark said, wondering just what exactly this Vanir was, and why they had appeared to be a doll for so many years. “We must beg of your hospitality, Lord Manderly, but we shall depart on the morrow.”

“Preparations are already underway, and chambers made ready for you,” Lord Manderly promised. “I would come myself, but you will have need of haste, and I fear I cannot manage that. But come, you must be wearied from your journey. The hospitality of White Harbor and House Manderly is yours, your Grace, Lord Stark.”


	26. Only Mostly Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon was probably out of loose change anyway.

_ Brought to you by: Miracles; For when you’ve already gone through their pockets for loose change.  _

_ Chapter 25: Only Mostly Dead _

Feeling as though he were floating, Jon drifted back to consciousness, and his eyes fluttered open. He felt stiff and sore, and his stomach appeared to be attempting to gnaw a hole in his spine. He groaned, and shifted in the...Jon paused, looking down at himself. He was lying under brightly colored sheets, with pictures of a smiling sun, bright blue waters, and an island with more of those odd leafy trees with large brown fruit on them. 

“Oh! Thank goodness, you’re awake! You must be starving. Here, drink this.”

Jon looked up, and found it hard for his jaw not to drop. The woman who had been nearly translucent the last he saw her stood before him, giving him a warm smile as she held out a bowl of steaming broth. He had been correct that she was lovely, but what he hadn’t realized was that she was perhaps the most well-endowed woman he’d ever seen, with wide hips and a smile that could melt any man's heart. He slowly accepted the soup, but didn’t take his eyes off of her. 

“Thank you for saving me. I am Wiz, the Ice Witch of the North,” the woman said, taking a seat by Jon.

He blinked, then quickly sipped at his soup, struggling for something to say. He finally managed, “Thank you, my lady, it’s good.”

“I’m glad! We’ve still got some food left, but we’re going to have to move soon. Jorah tells me that Mance is going to make a stand at the Fist of the First Men, and most everyone is leaving for there. I need to know if you feel well enough to accompany us, Mr. Snow, or if you’ll head back with the elderly and the children,” Wiz asked. 

“I, ah, serve at the Lord Commander’s pleasure. But it would be my honor to go with you, my Lady,” Jon replied, inclining his head. 

Wiz cocked her head to one side, frowning slightly. “Are you related to the Starks, perchance? You remind me of them.”

“I...I am the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark,” Jon admitted, his spirits sinking slightly at having to admit his baseborn nature.

Wiz, however, seemed delighted by this. “Oh good! It will be helpful to have a Stark with us. Especially…” Wiz bit her lip, then gently took Jon’s hands in hers. 

He felt his heart race, and swallowed. “M-My lady?” he asked, but he feared he knew the answer already.

“Mr. Snow, I...I’m sorry to tell you but...your uncle, Benjen...he was taken by the Others. He and his men gave me time to escape the trap we found ourselves in, but...he was taken. I...I am certain he died.”

Nausea filled Jon’s belly, and he was grateful he’d eaten only broth. He bowed his head, taking a shuddering breath. “Thank you for telling me, Lady Wiz. I suppose I’ve known for some time my uncle wasn’t coming back. Or at least... not alive.”

“I wish I could have saved him, but... the Others are growing stronger. I’m worried the seal the Goddesses put on the Great Other is weakening. I’m sending word back with the refugees that we’re going to need the help of the Goddesses and the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jon winced. “Ah, my lady, the realm... it is at war. Stannis Baratheon has seized the Iron Throne, my father and the rightful king were forced to flee from their own capital.”

Wiz went a bit paler, hand going to her mouth. “Oh no! That’s terrible! I... oh, no. Well. We’ll just have to turn back the Others at the Fist, as we once did in times past.”

Jon nodded, then managed to get out of bed with a bit of help from Wiz. Outside, Jon found Ghost had been waiting patiently for him, and the quiet wolf rose and followed after Jon as he headed outside. 

“Oh-ho! The young boy who has given a lady his vitality for the first time awakens!” Vanir cried as they stepped out into the shop. “But, we have more pressing matters. Wiz, moi has gone over your ledgers, and moi simply cannot fathom it.”

“What? Why?” Wiz hurried over to where Vanir was standing at the shop’s counter. “What’s wrong with them? They were perfectly in order when I left... Gilly usually does such a good job too…”

  
“No! That is the problem! These books must clearly be wrong, for if moi’s calculations are correct, you have been showing a profit, Wiz!” Vanir declared, pointing an accusing finger at Wiz.

  
“That is the point of a shop, isn’t it?” Jon asked, hobbling over and looking down at the book. “I mean, it’s been open for thousands of years. She’d have to make a profit to stay open, wouldn’t she?”

“Vanir!” Wiz cried, planting her fists on her hips. “Are you saying you don’t believe I know how to run a business?!”   
  


“Moi is saying EXACTLY that! Moi has always known thee as the shopkeeper who became poorer the harder she worked, but here it seems you have been making a tidy income! Worse, moi cannot work out where thou receives thy wares! These are not from this world!” Vanir accused. 

  
Wiz blushed. “Oh, um, well…”

“They are a bit odd,” Jon admitted, glancing at a rack of scarves in gaudy colors. “But I can see why people would want warm scarves and the like.”

“Who is thy supplier, Wiz?” Vanir demanded. “Do not play innocent with moi: many of these products come from Belzerg, and moi has also found ‘Made in China’ on several of thy trinkets.”

“Ok, look. Nyarko just gives me a really good deal on whatever she drags up off the ocean floor,” Wiz admitted. “She just pops up all kinds of stuff. Shipping containers from Earth, the contents of a wreck from Belzerg, I don’t know where she gets it all. It’s technically against the rules, but just look at all these amazing products!” 

Wiz produced an incredibly skimpy set of what Jon could only imagine were women's small clothes, consisting of a brightly colored strip of fabric meant to cover the breasts, and a matching one for the nether regions. Jon absently found himself wondering what Wiz would look like wearing them, and blushed and turned back to the book to hide his embarrassment. 

“Moi wonders who would be wearing a bikini in the icy lands of the north,” Vanir remarked acerbically. “And how thou manages to turn a profit on such things, moi cannot fathom.”

  
“Well, um, they don’t use it as a bathing suit,” Wiz admitted, and Jon’s head snapped up, his jaw dropping. Women bathed in such things?! How did they not freeze to death?! “But a lot of men like to buy them for their wives, and ladies like them because they’re pretty. And more comfortable than the regular underwear they have. They’re a hot item.”

“Hmph. Moi supposes thy records speak for themselves.” Vanir tapped his jaw with a finger, then sighed, and gave Wiz a bow. “Moi concedes defeat. Thou haste to become a most skillful shopkeeper, dear Wiz. Clearly, thou no longer needs moi. I shall return to my mistress.”

  
“Wait!” Wiz cried as Vanir strode for the door. “Vanir, it’s been thousands of years since we’ve seen one another! I...well, we’re friends! I’d like to spend some time with you. And, well, we could really use your help against the Others…”

Vanir was back beside Wiz at once, chortling to himself.

“O-ho-ho, thou admits that thou art still helpless without my aid? Ah! What delicious despair! Very well! Moi will consent to accompany you and the foolish young man for a while longer. If only because my Mistress would be most vexed if disgrace were to befall Jon Snow.”

Jon glanced back and forth between the two strange beings. Wiz, blushing and smiling as she took Vanir’s arm and started to reminisce about old times as she led him about the shop, who looked to be a sweet and normal woman, but was clearly some sort of immortal witch. And Vanir, the droll gentleman demon who seemed to exist to torment mortals, but only in a teasing, playful manner that left Jon mostly feeling baffled. 

Sighing, he stepped outside, looking around until he spotted the banner of the Watch. He hurried over, and found Sam tending to his cages of ravens. 

  
“Oh, you’re awake! That’s good, I was worried about you. The Lord Commander said that the strange man in the mask is a demon who drained your life or something. You alright?” Sam asked.

“I think so,” Jon said, giving his friend a smile. “How are things?” 

  
Sam shrugged. “The wights keep attacking, but Vanir and Wiz destroy them all before any of us can do much of anything. Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re here. Anything that gets past them will be too much for us.”

“Wiz told me my uncle Benjen saved her,” Jon said quietly, taking a bit of corn to toss to the ravens. 

  
“Oh. Um, sorry. About your uncle, I mean. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed a good man.”

“He was,” Jon agreed, still feeling the pain of loss.

They talked quietly for a bit about other things, mostly what Jon had missed. Though he’d only slept for most of a day and a night, a lot had happened. The Witch’s Village was being evacuated, with some of the Brothers escorting the wildling elderly and children back to Castle Black. While it might seem odd for the Watch to be doing that, as Sam put it, “Better we keep them alive then have to fight them when they’re dead.”

  
Besides, Jon didn’t have the stomach to condemn old men and young girls to death, especially not at the hands of the wights or worse. 

He attended Lord Mormont that evening as he took council with his captains, along with Vanir and Wiz. Vanir, for once, seemed sober and stayed mostly quiet, listening as Wiz outlined what she had learned. 

  
“The Others are making a massive push south. I defeated dozens of them, and destroyed hundreds of their wights, but there were always more.”

“Then they are trying to march on the Wall,” Commander Mormont muttered. “I almost think we should tell Mance to pull back with us, but he’d never do so willingly while he still thought he had a chance, and neither would most wildlings. What could have caused this sudden surge of power?”

“I don’t know, but Aqua and Holo warned me that magic was increasing the world over. I think it has something to do with the Lord of Light, but I don’t know much about him,” Wiz admitted. She looked to Vanir. “Do you know anything about this supposed Red God?”

“Moi has sensed a malign influence upon this world, unlike that of the foolish goddesses, but moi knows little of it. However, the Leylines of this world are strengthening: magic is surging and increasing, though moi knows not why. The mistress called moi here less than seven years ago when she was but a babe.”

“Oh! Komekko is here?” Wiz asked brightly. “Does that mean Megumin and the others are here as well?”

  
“You know my sisters?” Jon spoke up. 

Wiz hesisted, then looked to Vanir who shook his head.

“Not precisely. You mortals reincarnate, and shed your memories of past lives. Some things are similar, but you change. It is quite bothersome to keep track of.”

“Back to the matter at hand, what laid you low, Lady Wiz?” Qhorin Halfhand asked. 

  
Wiz hesitated, then spoke quietly. “A Death Knight of the Others.”

There were gasps around the table, though Jon felt confused. 

  
“There has not been a Death Knight since the Kinslayer was slain!” Lord Mormont cried, looking deeply concerned. “Their power was locked away by the Old Gods when they bound the Great Other to the Frozen Throne.” 

“He commanded the ancient magics once more. Blood. Frost. And plague. I...I fear for those on the Fist of the First Men. If the Plague of Undeath is loose once more...” Wiz licked her lips. “You would have to retreat beyond the Wall. Which... which is why I brought this.”

Wiz took out what appeared to be an earthen vessel about the size of a large drinking mug, but upon closer inspection, Jon saw that it was inscribed with a number of odd runes, and glowed slightly. Vanir stood up straight upon seeing in, his lips turning down into a frown. 

  
“What is it?” Lord Mormont asked, leaning forward to peer at the obviously magical artifact. 

“My phylactery,” Wiz stated. When that elicited no understanding, she bit her lip. “I...I am undead, as are the wights. Only... not the same. I am a lich, a Greater Undead. I became one thousands of years ago. Normally I would decay and corrupt, but... I was blessed by the Goddess Aqua.”

“How is that possible?” Thoren Smallwood, the Senior Ranger demanded. “You fight the Others, it has been that way for time beyond measure.”

“I am... not from this world. I came from the same world as the Goddesses Aqua and Eris. It was called Belzerg. They needed someone to live beyond the Wall and watch over these lands they could not see themselves. And, so, I came here, to protect the innocent. In some ways, I am like the Others, but they are not truly undead. They are spirits of ice and night, alien beings. For all my battles with them, we have never managed to communicate, though I tried in the early years.”

  
“So what is this... phylactery?” Mormont demanded. 

“It contains my soul, and my earthly remains. As long as it persists, so shall I. However, when I leave here, I will no longer be able to ward it. As such, I must bear it with me. I give it over to mortal men to protect,” Wiz informed them. “And, if the need arises, you shall have to carry it south of the Wall. My phylactery can survive such a trip, for Aqua herself made the vessel. But, it will destroy my corporeal form, for a time.”

The leaders of the watch regarded the vessel with new respect, and no small amount of trepidation. At last, Mormont cleared his throat, and took the vessel somewhat reverently. After holding it for a moment, he shook his head, then passed it to Jon.

“Guard this with your life, Snow. This is the fate of the North, and perhaps all of Westeros.”

“I shall,” Jon said, and carefully placed the phylactery into his pouch. He glanced at Wiz, who smiled at him encouragingly, and blushed slightly. It was hard to imagine such a beautiful woman as being an ancient and terrible being. He wondered absently how many Brothers had fallen in love with her over the millenia. More than he could count, in all likelihood. 

It wasn’t like there were many women on the wall.

========================================================================

“Have you reached a verdict?” Viserys asked, for what felt like the thousandth time. 

  
“We have, Big- I mean, my Lord,” the elderly merchant said. He held up the parchment before himself, and carefully read, “Of the crimes of offering human sacrifice to the wicked false god known as the Lord of Light, we find the defendant guilty. Of the crimes of rape of his household servents, we find the defendant guilty. Of the crime of murder, we find the defendant guilty.”

“Thank you, Master Haz’lor,” Viserys said gravely. The head juror sat back down in the box, looking proud of himself and sitting with a straight back. The rest of the jury glared angrily at the defendant, some fat Great Master who had regularly offered the bastards he fathered on his slave women to the flames of Kefka. 

Then, Viserys turned to Iris. Really, why couldn’t she just cut out the middleman and be the judge?

“Well, sister. What does the law prescribe in this case?”

Or, to be more accurate, what did Iris think should happen, because her word was law. Things tended to work out that way when you not only had three dragons, but were also the world’s strongest warrior. And, incidentally, the leader of a massive religious revival. 

“Under the laws of the Seven Goddesses, as outlined in the Seven Pointed Star, the sentence for human sacrifice is death by execution,” Iris intoned gravely. “For the crime of rape, castration. And for murder, also execution.”

The Great Master blubbered and begged, but Viserys had heard enough of that nonsense he really didn’t care. “Oh stop it. If you man up, I’ll have them execute you before the castration.”

That got the Great Master to pause in his weeping, looking at Viserys with a bewildered expression. “But, what would be the point of castrating a corpse?” 

“Well, for one thing, it would be a lot less painful for you,” Viserys pointed out. 

The man swallowed, but nodded, and tried to stand up. “What I did, I did for Kefka, and-”

  
“Belzerg; burn him,” Iris ordered, and the dragon opened his mouth as the Great Master screamed in pain as he was consumed by the very fires he’d offered his own children to. The onlookers refrained from cheering, as Iris had made it clear this was a sober event, and not one to be celebrated. 

Viserys just felt sick. He hadn’t eaten right in days: not after smelling cooked human flesh. He was considering becoming a vegetarian. 

“Court is adjourned,” Viserys said, tapping the odd little hammer Iris had ordered made for him on the stand. The jury stood, bowing not to Viserys, but Iris, then made their way out of their box and out of the Great Pyramid, which Iris had seized and turned from a residential palace for the Great Masters into her seat of government. Or, well, ‘Big Bro’s’ seat of government. Which was just silly. 

Honestly he didn’t even understand the reforms Iris was making. Trial by jury of your peers? That wasn’t even the law in the Seven Kingdoms, especially not for people who were obviously guilty. The Lord of the area, or if it were a noble, the Lord Paramount or the Crown, would just render judgement after hearing the charges and evidence and be done with it. Iris insisted on what she called ‘due process.’

What Viserys had no way of knowing is that Iris had spent a few lifetimes incarnated in democratic nations, where she had invariably risen to positions of authority based upon the fact that she was incredibly intelligent, highly charismatic, and able to tank an RPG round with her bare face and keep smiling. Knowing that would have just driven Viserys further over the brink of madness, so it was probably best that he didn’t.

Aqua did have a taste for reverse isekais though, which had resulted in some fairly strange adventures for Iris over the millenia. 

With that done, Viserys managed to escape from Iris for a few hours as she went out to oversee her public works projects she’d undertaken. She was creating what she called “proper sanitation facilities” for Meereen, and as far as Viserys could tell that involved a lot of digging and tearing up of roads and mucking about with wells and the river. It had, however, somewhat reduced the stink of the city, so he wasn’t going to complain that much. 

Instead, Viserys went to his current favorite place, which was the library, and squirreled himself away in a distant corner and read a few books while enjoying a light meal of bread and fruit. He absently wondered as he read about the history of religion in Slaver’s Bay if he should go to the Citadel and become a Maester. He was fairly certain they didn’t allow women in their order, which meant it would be perfect. Only he had a vague nightmare of Iris forcing the Archmaesters to allow women, and then marriage, at which point he’d be doomed to spend eternity with Iris as his bride. 

Shuddering, Viserys went back to his studies. He didn’t really care what he read about, only that it didn’t involve executions, warfare, or religious proselytizing. After the appearance of three of the Seven Goddesses in Meereen, along with Iris executing every Red Priest she could get her hands on (after a trial, of course) the slaves of the city had happily embraced the Faith of the Seven, being especially fond of the Axis Cult thanks to the actions of Gareth and Lirra, Iris’s pet cultists. 

  
Personally, Viserys considered goddesses to be almost as terrifying as his sister, and would just as much assume have as little to do with them as possible. 

Still, Meereen was rapidly reorganizing itself. The Great Masters that could were sprinting to distance themselves from their former practices as devoted followers of Kefka’s Red Temples, and trying desperately to curry favor with Iris. Especially after the three assasination attempts had not only failed, but proven that Iris could go from dead asleep to bashing someone’s head in less time than it took for most people to swing a knife. 

“Ah, Lord Viserys, I thought I’d find you here.”

  
Viserys looked up from his book on the religious practices of Slaver’s Bay, including a recent study on slave religions, to find Ser Jorah Mormont standing at the foot of the table.

“Oh, it’s you. What does Iris want?” Viserys demanded, scowling at the man. 

“Her Grace did not send me here to see you, Lord Viserys. I came of my own accord.”

“Oh.” Viserys considered that, then shrugged. “Well, have a seat. What do you want?”

“Thank you. Standing guard during those trials is wearying,” Ser Jorah said, easing himself into the chair. He was dressed in tunic and trousers instead of his armor, though he still had that sword of his.

  
“Why do you bother? It’s not as though any of these fools could hurt Iris,” Viserys pointed out.

  
“I would prefer not to find out if they are capable of such a thing. But that is not what I wish to discuss. I merely wanted to ask if you knew of Her Grace’s plans beyond this city,” Jorah inquired. 

Viserys shrugged. “I don’t know. Iris has always done what she wants. The last time I tried to get rid of her, she burned down a Dothraki khalasar and found three dragons, so I’ve sort of given up on that.”

“Get rid of-” Ser Jorah narrowed his eyes at Viserys. “So. You wish to rule in truth, then?”

“Good goddesses, no!” Viserys laughed, though it came out a bitter sound. “What I want is to live somewhere in peace, and as long as Iris is around, that’s not going to happen! She’s the Stormborn! She is literally the chosen of the Goddess of Battle. Everywhere she goes, there is conflict, and death, and I am frankly sick of it all. You want to know what I’ve been thinking of? How nice it would be to become a maester. No women, no violence, just me, some books, and a life of peace. Great Uncle Aemon had the right bloody idea when he became a maester and shipped off to the Night’s Watch.”

  
Very deliberately, Viserys picked up a book and pretended to read again, though he found his eyes drifting back to Ser Jorah, who was studying him. 

“I think you actually mean that,” the exiled knight finally said. “I was going to ask you to help prod Her Grace back into motion, to recruit an army, perhaps here in Meereen, then return to Westeros to reclaim her throne. Robert the Usurper is dead. We received word not a few hours ago on a ship.”

  
“What!? Robert Baratheon is dead?!” Viserys gasped. A sudden plan formed in his mind. “Wait, what if we got Iris to marry his son? What’s his name? Doesn’t matter. She marries him, I win! She’s queen, and I can become a maester!” 

“Prince Kazuma is likely dead. Stannis Baratheon sits on the throne now,” Jorah said in a cold tone.

  
Viserys considered that. “Well, he’s already married, so I suppose that plan is right out. Look, you want to recruit an army and go fight the Baratheons? Be my guest. I want to be well clear of it. I hate boats; I was sea sick the entire way from Westeros.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms,” Ser Jorah muttered as he stood. 

“Oh, I am. I just have enough sense to realize I would be terrible at it. Unlike some people,” Viserys said, actually going back to his book now that he was fairly certain Ser Jorah wasn’t going to either try to kill him, or get him to do something insane. 

“Your sister is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She’s a mind for justice, politics, war, and even civics. Chosen by the Goddesses themselves. You are a weak coward,” Ser Jorah declared, then stomped off. 

  
“If you’re trying to insult me, it won’t work,” Viserys called after him.

  
The muttered curses from Ser Jorah made Viserys smile as he went back to reading about the Unsullied’s religion. Apparently, they performed their rituals underground, praying to some secret goddess. That made Viserys wonder. Was Iris claustrophobic? Probably not. The only thing she seemed to be frightened of was running out of things to fight. 

And possibly maps. 


	27. An Un-Bear-Able Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has a heart to heart with Eris, which is less confusing than it sounds.

_ Sponsored by the Natural Parks service. Remember kids, only YOU can prevent Forest Fires. And were-beasts.  _

Chapter 26: An Un-Bearable Situation

Despite the late hour, the Sept at New Castle was lit by several glimmering candles left by the septons the Manderlys employed. As both Sea Lords and merchants, their favored goddesses were Eris and Aqua, though they especially favored the Goddess of Fortune, as she was the guardian of merchant ships and had greatly enriched the Manderlys, making them by far the wealthiest lords in the North. 

Unlike most of their fellow Northerners, the Manderlys followed the New Goddesses as their Reacher ancestors had, and their sept was richly decorated with various hangings depicting the acts of the goddesses. In particular they showed the favored of Eris, and the statues of her and her attendant Saints were gilded and decorated with bright paint and jewelry. 

  
Which was what made it such a tempting target for a thief. Normally, no one was foolish enough to rob a sept, as having a goddess develop a personal vendetta against you was a guaranteed way to shorten one’s lifespan. Some individuals, however, were brave or foolish enough to do such a thing, as the person dressed in dark clothes and wearing a silver mask must have been as they crept into the sept, carefully extinguishing the candles one by one. 

Taking out a few improvised tools, the thief set to work. They moved first to the statue of Eris, prying out several jewels and pocketing them, as well as slipping off gold and silver jewelry from the statue. 

  
Of course, robbing a goddess is a risky trade, and when Eris herself appeared behind the thief, she scowled, planting her hands on her hips. 

“Young lady, just what do you think you’re doing?” Eris demanded in an exasperated tone. 

The thief spun about, nearly dropping their tools. Upon seeing who had caught them, however, the thief did not panic, instead folding their arms over their chest. 

  
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe robbing you blind?”

“If you need money, you could just ask you know,” Eris scolded. “This is no way for you to behave!”

“Would YOU have ever asked for money, huh? Or would you have taken it?” the thief demanded. 

Eris blushed, but rallied. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about YOU. Defacing my shrine and stealing from your hosts is very bad manners, missy!”

“Oh lay off, mom. You know you robbed a few shrines in your time,” the thief snarled, pulling down her mask and revealing features remarkably similar to that of Eris.

“How do you-wait, you don’t have any of my memories! You’re just guessing!” Eris accused Chris. 

“Yeah, but I figured it would be the sort of thing you’d pull. Who’d you rob? Aqua? Madoka? Ooh! Tell me it was Satella, that would be hilarious!” 

“For your information, they were an evil god, and I don’t even know if they exist anymore; they were very minor and they lived only in Belzerg. I was doing the world a favor. Unlike my daughter, who insists on being a delinquent!” Eris ranted. 

“Well, then I guess I’m just carrying on the family tradition,” Chris said airily, sticking her nose in the air. 

  
“You put that jewelry back right now, young lady!” Eris ordered, wagging her finger at Chris.

“Or what?”   
  


“Or I’ll have Brienne or Darkness make you do it,” Eris threatened. 

Chris glared at her divine parent, then, grumbling to herself, she put the jewelry back on, then shoved the gems back in their sockets. “There. Happy now?”

“Not particularly. Look, Chris, you don’t need to do this. I’ve seen to it you’ll be well taken care of,” Eris sighed. 

“Yeah? Did you see those assholes taking over King’s Landing and forcing me to leave my stuff behind?!” Chris demanded. 

  
Eris made a face. “Yes, but I couldn’t interfere. You know the rules.”

“The rules are dumb! You’re the Divine Thief! Even if they say not to meddle you should, you know, meddle!” Chris argued. 

  
“Why, exactly, do you think I made sure you, Darkness, and Brienne were there?” Eris cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m sorry if your possessions were more important to you, but the fate of this world is at stake! And in case you’ve forgotten, you live here!” 

“I…” Chris kicked at the ground looking down. “Alright, I get it. I’m sorry. I just...I sort of wanted to get your attention and figured even if you ignored me, at least I’d make some money off of this.”

“I wish I could spend more time with you too,” Eris said, stepping forward and wrapping Chris in her arms, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’ve never had a daughter before, even when I was mortal. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, love you too mom,” Chis sighed, returning the hug. “I understand you’re busy being a goddess and stuff.”

“Chris? Who is that?” 

  
Both Chris and Eris jumped apart from one another, whirling to find Kazuma and Megumin standing in the darkened sept. They were holding hands, Megumin having led Kazuma through the dark without the aid of a light. And because they really were perverts at heart. 

“M-Megumin! And Kazuma! I...well. I’m glad to see you, I suppose. It has been a while,” Eris said, managing to give them a smile.

“Mom. They’re mortal. They don’t remember you. They didn’t even recognize ‘Mizu,’ and that was the most paper thin disguise I’ve ever seen in my life,” Chris groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation

“Seriously? Mizu? Ugh. I should just be glad no one speaks Japanese here,” Eris muttered. Then managed a smile. “Er, hello. I’m a, ah Septa. I’m Chris’s mother. She was, um, just paying a visit to the sept.”

“What’s going on? I can’t see a thing,” Kazuma complained. “How are you guys able to see so well in the dark? Why is Ashara Dayne here?”

“Smooth, mom. Real smooth.”

“You’re the one who called me your mother,” Eris muttered as Megumin frowned and looked back and forth between them. 

“How can you be Chris’s mother? I thought that was Ashara Dayne, and you both look the same age,” Megumin said suspiciously. 

“You should just tell them. You know you want to,” Chris said, poking Eris in the side and making her mother glare at her. 

“Tell us what? Will someone please make a light! The rest of you might be able to see in the dark, but I can’t!” Kazuma complained. 

“Oh for-fine. Illumination.” Eris held up a hand, conjuring up a glowing ball of light, which made the mortals all wince and shield their eyes for a comment. “Hello, Kazuma, Megumin. I know you don’t remember me, but...I’m your friend. Eris. And...and this is my daughter. Chris.”

“Sup. Apparently, we were like, buds or something in one of your past lives. This is my first go around though, so don’t expect me to remember anything,” Chris said giving the two blinking youths a big smile. 

“E-Eris?!” Kazuma stammered, taking half a step back as his eyes adjusted. “Wait, hold on, like, the Goddess!? And...and you’re Chris’s mother? But...but Eris is a maiden!”

“I still am!” Eris snapped. Then she sighed. “Look. It’s complicated. But Chris really is my daughter. The Daynes have long been favored by me, and I gave Chris into their care to raise as one of their own.”

“Wait, if you’re her mom, who’s Chris’s dad?” Megumin asked suspiciously.

“Apparently I don’t have one,” Chris said with a shrug. “Mom says it was a miracle or whatever. I think she’s full of shit, but she also supposedly can’t lie so who knows.”

“This is incredible! You really do have a dark, mysterious past!” Megumin said eagerly, jumping forward, her eyes glowing as she leaned in towards Eris. “What about me!? Did you grant me my incredible dark powers that I might lay low Stannis the Usurper and bring glory to House Stark!?”   
  


“No, actually, Stannis wasn’t supposed to do any of this,” Eris sighed. “I can’t tell you much, but... Look. Chris, I need you to help train Kazuma. He should have a number of Thief abilities like Bind and Steal.”

At the word “Steal” both Megumin and Kazuma went scarlet, with Kazuma looking away while Megumin’s hands went to guard her nether regions. 

“Oh. I guess he’s using that already,” Eris stammered, going bright red herself.

  
“What? What?” Chris demanded scowling. “Did he do something perverted? I knew that he really was a menace, pilfering maidens’ smallclothes!” 

“Look, it was an accident!” Kazuma protested as Megumin turned to glare at him. 

“You were stealing other girls' panties!?” Megumin hissed, inching towards Kazuma.

“N-Not anymore! I’ll only steal yours, I swear!” Kazuma babbled, which did not seem to placate Megumin in the slightest. “I mean, I won’t steal anymore! I’m through! No more Stealing panties!” 

“Anyway,” Eris sighed. “Chris can help you relearn Lurk, Bind, Enemy Detection, and a lot of your other abilities.”

“I’m not teaching a pervert anything,” Chris huffed, glaring at Kazuma who continued to back away from Megumin.

  
At the mention of learning new skills, Megumin looked back to Eris, her earlier ire forgotten for the moment.

“What about me? Can I learn any new magical abilities?”

“You already know Explosion,” Eris said, her brow wrinkling. “Why would you want to learn another?”

“Well, I mean, Explosion is clearly the most amazing spell ever, but it’s hardly fair Pervzuma gets to learn all these abilities and I’m stuck with just one,” Megumin opined, her eyes narrowing. “What about Yunyun? She knows all kinds of cool spells. Can I learn some of hers?”

Eris blinked, then stepped forward, putting a hand to Megumin’s head.

“You don’t have a fever... has she been acting odd lately? Taken any blows to the head?”

“It’s Megumin, she’s always a little odd,” Kazuma joked, then yipped as Megumin kicked him in the shin. 

“I’m fine!” Megumin snapped, jerking away from the goddess. “I just want more spells!”

“Er, you don’t know any other spells,” Eris admitted, looking faintly bemused. “You were utterly devoted to Explosion magic in all your past lives. It’s literally the most powerful spell any mortal has ever mastered in all the worlds I oversee.”

“Really!? You mean, I am the mistress of the most powerful magic of all!?” Megumin asked eagerly. Then she frowned. “I mean, that’s cool, but a knight must master many weapons to be properly trained.”

“I...huh. I guess you really are different this time around,” Eris said, a faint smile on her lips. Then she shook herself. “Well. I should be going. It’s good to see you again. Watch out for Chris. She’s a talented thief, but, well, this world is dangerous.”

“Wait,” Kazuma gasped, hurrying forward. “We... we came here to say prayers for my dad. Is he...um, well...is he...ok?”

“Your dad?” Eris blinked, then flushed. “Oh, you mean Robert Baratheon. Yes. He’s with Satella.”

“Could you... could you take him a message for me? I... I want him to know I miss him, and that I’ll be a good king. And I won’t let Stannis get away with betraying his memory!” Kazuma growled, clenching his hand into a fist.

  
Eris tapped a finger to her chin, then nodded. “I think I can do better than that. One moment.” The goddess closed her eyes, spreading her hands out at her side slightly. “Satella? Yes, it’s me. Do you know where Bobby B is? With you? Ah. Of course. Yes, I know it’s late, and I can guess what you’re doing, thank you very much. No, I have Kazuma here. He’d like to speak to Robert. Can you put him on the line? Ok.” 

Opening her eyes, Eris smiled. “Just a moment.” She held up her hands, and another glowing ball of light shimmered into being. A moment later, it changed into the face of a young man in his twenties, with dark hair and a thick black beard.

“Uncle Renly?” Kazuma asked, tilting his head to one side. 

“Ha! Don’t you recognize your own father, boy?” Robert laughed, his voice booming out of the image, making the three mortals (well, two and a half) jerk slightly. The former king gave Kazuma a wink. “This is what I looked like when I fought Rhaegar on the Trident, before you were born, boy!”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Kazuma deflated slightly. “I...I wish I was more like you, dad. Strong, and tough, and not afraid of anything. I...I’m scared. What if I’m not ready for this?”

“Kazuma, listen.” Robert let out a heavy sigh, running one hand through his hair. “I was a shit king.”

“What?! No, you were great, you-”

“Boy, if I had been a good king, my own brother wouldn’t have betrayed the realm before my corpse was done cooling,” Robert snapped. “I should have done more than drink, and whore, and host tourneys. You know what killed me?”

Kazuma mutely shook his head. 

“I was too fat!” Robert thundered, glaring out of the sphere of light. “I ate, and drank, and got fat, and Satella tells me my damn heart got clogged with some nonsense the maesters would know about. So don’t be like me, boy! Listen to Ned. And...well, love that girl of yours. Megumin’s a good lass, even if she is a bit queer. Don’t disgrace your marriage bed like I did. I...well. As far as I’m concerned, you are my son. And you’ll make a damn sight better king than Stannis would have. And tell your mother...I forgive her. I...I should have loved her better.”

“I’m the only one you need to love now,” a voice purred through the sphere, and a silver haired woman leaned in to kiss Robert’s cheek.

  
“Dad?!” Kazuma gasped. “You...you’re dead and you’re-” Kazuma cut himself off as he went scarlet with anger.

“Look, it was until death do us part, and I’m dead,” Robert grumbled. 

“You weren’t faithful in life either!” Kazuma snarled, pointing to Robert. “That hurt, you know! Not just mom, but me! You spent more time in brothels than you did with Tommen and Myrcella, or maybe even me! You-”

Kazuma took a deep breath, and Robert looked wounded. “Look. I...I just wanted you to know I loved you, dad. And...and I’ll be a good king. Better than you. Looks like I’ll have to be. Come on, Megumin. I’m going back to bed.”

  
With that, Kazuma turned his back on his father as he started to weep. Megumin spared an angry glance for the dead king, then took Kazuma’s arm and led him back out into the darkness, guiding his steps.

“Well. I suppose I made a bloody mess of that,” Robert sighed. He turned to face Eris. “Does the boy know?”

“Know what?” Chris asked, peering into the orb with interest. 

“No, he doesn’t and we’re going to keep it that way,” Eris said firmly. “I’m sure you understand now.”

“I do. Even if I wish I could kill Cersei, I brought it on myself in the end,” Robert admitted. “Besides I-oh. Well, looks like someone’s not satisfied yet! Ha! When you come back to the Divine Realm, Eris we can- Ow! I was joking, woman, joking! I know she’s a maiden goddess.”

Eris went red and quickly cut the connection. “Well. That, ah. Um. You know Satella, I suppose.”

“Not for a long time,” Chris said, making a face. “What was that about Kazuma not knowing?”

“That he has a dark and terrible destiny. Robert was told about his birth,” Eris said smoothly, cleanly sidestepping the question with something that was true, but unrelated.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. I guess I can hold off on telling him about all that nonsense. Don’t understand most of it anyway,” Chris admitted. 

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Eris promised, and pulled her daughter into a quick hug. She kissed Chris on the cheek, making the girl blush. “I do love you, my heart. I know I’m not the greatest mother, but…”

“Hey, better than some! Besides, Ashara was pretty good to me anyway,” Chris said, and pecked her mother on the cheek. “I promise not to steal from your sept. Tonight, anyway. Thanks for the chat.”

“Just remember, I don’t favor fools,” Eris scolded as Chris walked out of the sept.   
  
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, mom.”

Eris waited a moment, looking worried. She sighed, shiving slightly. “Winter really is coming,” the goddess muttered. “I just hope this works, Aqua. If you get my daughter killed, I’ll never forgive you.”

Then the sept was empty again.

Though one of Eris’s golden bracelets was missing. Apparently, Chris was either better at palming jewelry then her mother realized, or Eris was just proud of her daughter’s skills. 

===================================================================

Standing with Osha and her mother, Komekko watched as the Mormont troops marched through the castle gate. They had just arrived, and thus would be hosted that evening in the great hall, before being set up in Wintertown. Only the Lords and a few attendants were able to dine in the Great Hall every evening, as too many thousands had arrived in the past few weeks for even Winterfell to host them all at once. 

Unlike the other groups however, Komekko was excited to have Lady Mormont’s men arrive for another reason, one that dismounted and hurried over alongside her mother and elder sister. 

  
“Lady Stark,” Maege Mormont said gravely, kneeling before her along with her two daughters. “House Mormont renews our oaths to you, and pledges ourselves and our swords to your banners. I have brought fifty horse, and five hundred foot.”

The battle-scarred old woman held out the haft of her battle axe, which Komekko reached out and touched with one hand. “I accept your oaths and swords. Rise, Lady Mormont, and serve me as you did my father, and his father before him.”

Maege did, then smiled at Komekko, a tear appearing in her eye. “You’ve grown, child. We are all saddened by the loss of your father, but it is good to see the blood of House Stark yet runs true.”

“Thank you,” Komekko said, then turned to Lyanna Mormont, and held out her arms. “It’s good to see you too, Lya.”

“You too, ‘Mekko,” Lyanna agreed, hugging her friend tightly. “We are very sorry to hear of Lord Eddard’s death. Our vengeance will be swift. I shall ride south with you, along with mother and Dacey.”

“Good. I know I can count on your council,” Komekko said gravely. The two little girls missed the smiles that their mothers exchanged. Though it was hard to see their daughters grow up so quickly, both were proud. 

“Lady Mormont, mother shall see to refreshment for you and your men,” Komekko said, picking up her dolls. “Lya and I must have a meeting in private.”

That got a raised eyebrow from Maege, but she nodded. “As you will, my Lady. I suppose it would be good to have a moment with your friend.”

The two girls trundled off with Hoost following behind. No adults noticed that Lyanna was eyeing both Maxell and Regina in a manner that was not what one would expect for a child’s plaything.

The two girls went to the solar, where Komekko shut the door with Osha waiting outside “Ensure we are not interrupted, Regina,” she ordered. 

“Yes, Mistress,” the Duchess of Revenge agreed, and snapped her fingers, causing a red glow to bathe the door.

“Where is Vanir?” Lyanna asked, studying the two demons. Unlike the adults, she was fully aware of who Vanir was, Komekko having confided the secret to her several years ago when the two girls had first met. 

“I sent him north to make sure Jon was safe,” Komekko explained, taking a seat and gesturing for Lyanna to do the same. “Maxwell, tea for both of us. Extra honey for me.”

“And I as well, please. Maxwell, is it?” Lyanna asked, studying the bespectacled demon. 

“Indeed, Lady Lyanna,” the demon agreed as he conjured up a teapot and some honey. “Have we met? I’m afraid my memory isn’t all it used to be.”

“No, I have not either you, or this Regina. More demons, Komekko?” Lyanna asked, frowning slightly. 

  
“Regina is the Duchess of Revenge. Maxwell is the Duke of Torture,” Komekko explained, her red eyes glowing as she accepted a cup from Maxwell. “They shall be giving my regards to Stannis Baratheon.”

“I see,” Lyanna said, nodding seriously. “That seems proper.”

  
Hoost walked over to Komekko, sitting at her feet, eyeing Lyanna appraisingly.

“Oh, I am sorry. Hoost, introduce yourself,” Komekko said, patting her direwolf on the head. 

Lyanna only sipped at her tea as Hoost transformed, bowing as his tail wagged slightly. “Name’s Hoost. Been servin’ Lady Komekko for a spell now. Ain’t always been a wolf, but it’s not a bad gig. So you’re the bear girl, eh?” 

“Indeed. I am a daughter of House Mormont,” Lyanna agreed calmly. She studied each of the demons in turn, pursing her lips. “I must say, Komekko, do you think it wise to have so many demons bound to you?”

“Oh, I have lots more. They just need to stay in hell. I’m not going to conquer the world, I promised to be good,” Komekko reassured her friend. “But they killed my dad, and my sisters, and Robb. They’re going to pay, Lya.”

“I believe the Lannisters have a saying that is appropriate in this circumstance,” Lyanna agreed. “One should always pay your debts to your enemy.” She set down her tea cup, and took out a dirk, which was practically a sword in her tiny hands. “I shall help you settle yours with Stannis.”

“Good,” Komekko agreed. “I’m glad you’re here.” She wrinkled her nose. “A lot of the adults are being dumb. They’re arguing about who’s going to be in command.”

  
“Really? I thought that would be obvious: you are,” Lyanna pointed out.

“Yeah but they want me to marry someone too. I’m not marrying anyone! I’m eight! When I do marry, I’m going to be a woman grown, and I’m not going to marry some smelly old guy,” Komekko declared. 

“Very sensible. My mother never wed my father, which is only natural considering the circumstances. Shall we go ensure that your bannermen don’t tear one another apart?”

“Yeah. If they’re bad, you can knock some sense into them, Lya,” Komekko promised. “Just don’t kill anyone.”

“I shall try, but I have a hard time knowing how strong I am when I am angry,” Lyanna said seriously. 

  
The two girls exited the room, with Osha falling in behind them. 

“Osha, this is Lyanna. She’s going to be my second in command,” Komekko informed her shield. “She’s really smart and strong. I think I’m going to have her beat up Lord Umber if he’s rude today.”

Osha nodded seriously, studying the small girl out of the corner of one eye. A few months back, she would have laughed at the idea of an eight year old girl who looked as though she might weigh five stone soaking wet fighting Lord Umber, who was nearly seven feet tall and weighed over 25 stone if he weighed an ounce. However, she had learned not to judge based on appearances, which was wise all things considered. 

That evening, Lord Umber once more made a loud and crass suggestion that Komekko should marry his youngest son, who was twice her age. Catelyn glared at the man, but Komekko calmly stood. 

  
“Lord Umber, I have made it clear that my marriage prospects are none of your concern. What is your concern is killing Stannis Baratheon and every last traitorous Southron dog who slew my father and siblings. If you bring up the matter again, I shall be most cross.”

“You might be a Stark, girl, but you’re no battle leader yet!” Lord Umber roared. He was known as the Greatjon, and he deserved the name. Some men likened him to a great black bear, as he was shaggy and oafish by nature. He was not, however, the real ursine in the room. 

  
Komekko looked to Lyanna, who was standing from her seat at her friend's side. “Be gentle. Don’t kill him,” Komekko said sternly. 

Maege whirled on her daughter, mouth opening, but Lyanna ignored her mother, climbing up on the table and walking across it towards Lord Umber, who roared with laughter. 

“What, are you going to send this little girl to get me in line? I’ve had shits bigger than her!” Lord Umber bellowed as he stood up.

“I was just going to slap some sense into you,” Lynna told the man, who was taller than her now that he stood, even with her on the table. “But now I think you need to learn a lesson.”

“Lyanna! Do not-” Maege began, but Komekko raised a hand. 

“I give her permission, Lady Maege. It is time my lords learned that just because I’m a little girl doesn’t mean they don’t have to listen.”

“And you’re going to prove that how?” Lord Umber bellowed, his head turning towards Komekko. A second later, he blinked, and looked back to find a bear cub glowering at him from the table. He had just enough time to realize that perhaps he had made an error, when Lyanna let out a roar and jumped off the table, tackling Lord Umber to the ground. Screaming as he was savaged by Lyanna, Lord Umber couldn’t have known just what he was up against. Lyanna and her sisters were, in fact, the daughters of one of the few remaining Old Gods, the Bear of the Isle himself, who had been Maege Mormont’s lover for many years. 

When Lyanna was finished, Lord Umber was moaning and clutching at his arm, and she stood up, turning back into the form of a girl. She spat out two fingers, and walked over, placing them before Komekko. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“Does anyone else wish to challenge me?” Komekko demanded, and for a moment, she rippled. Her mother gasped in shock, first at the change that overcame her daughter, and then at the three terrible beings that surrounded the high seat. The various banner men all froze, and their jaws dropped. 

In Komekko’s place sat a woman who bore a crown of iron and ice, worked in the shape of wolf’s fangs. She had long dark hair, and burning red eyes. Her figure was slim and boyish, and at her side was a whip and a magic rod of blackened weirwood. Behind her stood a trio of terrible monsters, each of them obviously inhuman, from the dark skinned wolf-like man, to the man with leathery wings, and last the woman with hooves and a long spiked tail. 

Then, the image vanished, and the assembled lords blinked. The little girl was back, and she had a wolf at her feet, and two dolls sat beside her in her chair.

  
Hopping down, Komekko walked over to Lord Umber, who was wheezing and clutching at his bloodied hand. “Do we have an understanding, Uncle Bigjon? Or do I need to remove a few fingers too?”

“I…” Lord Umber blinked back tears, then threw back his head and laughed. “A wolf queen! Aye, we have an understanding, my lady. I’ll broach the subject no more. Old Goddesses be praised, Eddard spawned a demoness!”

“No, I’m good. I won’t be a demoness.” Then Komekko grinned, and her mouth was full of fangs. “Except to Stannis Baratheon.”

Just then, the door flew open, and a panting Maester Luwin ran in. “He lives!” 

Everyone turned to stare at the Maester, who held up a roll of parchment. “Lord Stark arrived in White Harbor yesterday morning! Gods be good, they’re all alive!” 

Komekko blinked in shock. “My dad...my dad’s alive?!”

“He is,” Maester Luwin babbled, hurrying over and thrusting the parchment into her hands. “They’re all alive! Even the Prince and his family!”

  
Komekko started to read, but she found her vision blurry as she began to cry. A moment later, Lord Umber was hugging her, weeping himself. 

“S-Sorry about your hand,” Komekko blubbered, taking the fingers out of her pocket and re-affixing them to Lord Umber’s hand, who gapped at them in astonishment. “I guess I didn’t need to teach you a lesson. Daddy can do it.”

“It was worth it, my lady,” Lord Umber whispered, squeezing her tightly. “I’d trade both my arms to have Eddard Stark back.”   
  


“Me too,” Komekko whimpered, and squeezed the big man tightly. 

  
For a moment, Lord Umber wondered if she meant she’d have ripped his arms off and burned them as an offering. Then he decided he didn’t care, and laughing, lifted Komekko onto his shoulders as the hall erupted into cheers and tears of joy. 

  
“My dad’s alive!” Komekko hooted. “He’s alive.”

Only three individuals were dismayed at the news, though they had gone back to their disguised forms. Maxwell and Regina shared a look, while Hoost’s ears drooped.

“Does this mean we’re not going to get to torture Stannis for all eternity?” Maxwell asked, sounding disappointed. 

  
“I’m not going back to hell without at least a few new souls to feast on,” Regina muttered. “The mistress promised me revenge.”

“Stannis still tried to kill her dad,” Hoost pointed out. “Maybe that’s worth sucking his soul out?”

“We can hope. The mistress does seem more merciful in this life,” Regina sighed. 

“Oh bother. Well, maybe she’ll let us execute a few traitors?” Maxwell asked hopefully. 

Hoost snorted. “Ain’t nobody stupid enough to do that around here. More’s the pity.”

Far away, Ramsay Snow sneezed. He rubbed at his nose, shrugged, and went back to his small minded torture of a poor soul he’d captured.

Little did he realize he was about to step into the big leagues, and that he was nothing but small peanuts.

_Cast of Characters:_

_Chris the Thief as: Actually Not Eris._

_Eris as: Wait, how can you have a kid and still be a maiden?_

_Kazuma as: The Sins of the Father are not passed on to the Son._

_Megumin as: Branching out._

_Bobby B as: Can't even keep it in his pants in the afterlife._

_Satella as: Go to Horny Jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 Dragons._

_Komekko as: The Cutest Little Devil Queen._

_Lyanna Mormont as: The bear necessities._

_Regina and Maxwell as: Deeply disappointed_

_Hoost as: Portrayed by Taika Waititi_

_Ramsey Snow as: Paragon has a list, he's checking it twice, gonnna find out who's naughty or nice. Satella is coming, to town._

_And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire as "How many fingers am I holding up?"_


	28. Hello, My Name is Dust Martell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know the Mountain has six fingers on his left hand?

This chapter was stolen by the Dread Pirate Roberts. Watch out, or he’ll come for your soul!

Chapter 27: Hello, My Name is Dust Martell

Gripping the sandalwood half of his spear, Dust hid his nervousness by grinning up at the giant of a man who had entered into the opposite side of the Trial Arena, a sunken pit made of red stone ten paces on a side. “Big bastard, aren’t you? Bet it was real hard for a big, tough guy like you to murder my aunt and her kids.”

Gregor Clegane regarded Dust with a bloodthirsty smile as his manacles were removed by trembling servants. “They sent a child to kill me? I thought I’d get to slay the Red Viper at least. But this? This is too easy.”

“Not as easy as you think,” Dust chuckled, whirling his spear into a guard stance as the Mountain rolled his shoulders. “Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Prepare to die.”

“Odd choice of last words,” the Mountain chuckled as his armor was hurriedly strapped on. He picked up his great sword and shield, swinging it a few times. Then he glanced to where King Stannis sat above them, along with Uncle Oberyn, Mace Tyrell, and several other high lords. “Come to witness me slaughter another babe? I’ll kill any man you send against me, but a boy is just insulting.”

“House Martell picked our finest fighter to face you this day, monster,” Oberyn spat. “Satella herself will reject you this day.”

Stannis didn’t speak, but he did eye Dust appraisingly. Beside the King sat a girl a few years younger than Dust, clutching at her father's arm in consternation. She had soft brown hair and bright blue eyes, and despite her Baratheon blood was somewhat thin and short. Rumor had it she was sickly, and this was the first time that Lean Baratheon had left Dragonstone in her life. Dust waved jauntily to the girl, and she timidly wiggled her fingers back. 

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll handle this-” Dust did a quick backflip as the Mountain suddenly surged forward, his sword slamming into the stones where Dust had been standing. Nonchalantly, Dust brushed off his clothes and gave his foe a wink. “-brute.” 

Instead of answering, the Mountain just attacked again, his sword moving with grace and precision despite his bulk. Though he looked like a thug, the Mountain was a clever and skilled fighter, and Dust had to stay on his toes, dodging and weaving as the big man relentlessly pursued him. 

  
“Hello!” Dust snapped, his spear suddenly intercepting the Mountain’s sword, sending it off to the side. “My name is Dust Martell!” He jabbed the spear into the Mountain’s leg joint, scoring a minor wound. Not too fast, like Uncle Oberyn had said. Though Dust had refused the poison. Where was the fun in that? “You killed my Aunt Elia! Prepare to die!” 

“SO WHAT IF I DID!? SHE WAS A TARGARYEN WHORE!” Gregore Clegane raged, coming after Dust with even more fury than before, his sword arcing down like the descent of a falling boulder. 

  
Dust caught it easily on his spear haft, causing the Mountain to start when a boy less than half his size blocked the titanic smash without flinching. 

“Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Prepare to die.”

The Mountain snarled, and Dust spun off to the side to dodge a straight on smash from the Mountain’s shield. He thrust the spear into the Mountain’s kidney this time, the point punching through the plate with a shriek of metal. The big man staggered, dropping to one knee and gasping in pain. 

  
Dust backed off, circling back around in front of the Mountain. 

“HELLO! MY NAME IS DUST MARTELL! YOU KILLED MY AUNT ELIA! PREPARE TO DIE!” 

“SHUT UP!” Gregor snarled, dropping his shield to take his sword in both hands and sending a desperate flurry of blows at Dust. 

Dust, however, countered them all, then began his own series of attacks, forcing the Mountain to stagger away from him. He scored more hits on the arms and legs; light wounds that wouldn’t kill alone, but would continue to weaken and bleed his foe. 

“ONE CUT FOR EACH YOU GAVE TO RHAENYS!” Dust shouted as his flurry continued, Gregor flailing to counter him. 

“Little...bitch...deserved it!” Gregor panted, lunging for Dust as he dropped his sword. Dust rolled away, coming to his feet smoothly as the Mountain fell to hands and knees, coughing, blood oozing from a dozen places in his armor. 

“Get up. I’m not finished with you yet,” Dust ordered, and kicked the monstrous knight his sword. 

Snarling, Gregor used the blade as a sort of crutch and forced himself to his feet. He raised his blade again, blood pooling at his feet. Despite his wounds, the Mountain charged again. 

Dust leapt into the air, easily clearing the twelve foot walls of the pit they were fighting in. He’d always been good at jumping, but now he put something extra into it. “DRAGON DESCENT!” 

He fell like a stooping raptor, his spear finding its mark in Gregor’s groin as Dust severed him, root and stem.

The Mountain tumbled over like a felled oak gasping in pain and clutching at his removed manhood, blood now gushing from the wound. His eyes were mad with pain, but he still tried to crawl towards Dust, who easily backed away. 

“You raped her before you killed her,” Dust accused. “Her children’s blood on your hands.”

“And... I... enjoyed... every... minute... of... it,” the Mountain hissed. 

“Do you enjoy this?” Dust demanded, raising his bloodied spear. 

The Mountain bared his bloody teeth at him. “I’ll enjoy... caving in... your skull... like I did... those... mewling... whelps...”

In response, Dust dropped his spear and ran forward. The Mountain grabbed at him, but Dust easily slapped away the arm. He grabbed the Mountain by the hair, looking into pain crazed eyes one last time.

“Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Now, you die.”

The Dust slammed the monsters head into the pavement. He heard a sickening crunch, and blood, brains, and other fluids spattered Dust’s boots. He kicked away the corpse in disgust, and turned to the King and his uncle, bowing.

“Justice is done this day in the sight of the Goddesses and Men.”

A few courtiers gave scattered, nervous applause, but stopped when they saw neither the king nor the prince applauding. Instead, Oberyn Martell stood, walked to the edge of the pit, and dropped his pants. Then he unceremoniously pissed on the corpse of Gregor Clegane. Once he finished, Oberyn fixed his trousers, then turned and bowed to Stannis. 

“House Martell pledges itself to your cause, King Stannis Baratheon. Let our houses be joined by the betrothal of my nephew and your daughter. It will be good to have a king of Justice upon the Iron Throne.”

At the mention of his impending nuptials, Dust flushed and glanced at Lean. She was looking back at him, but quickly hid her face when their eyes met. Dust smiled and rubbed the back of his head, only to realize he was coating it in gore. Wincing, he hurried off to get undressed, bathed and changed. 

Before going to pay his respects to Lean, however, Dust had another trip to make. He stopped by the kitchens, getting a hamper of food, then headed down to the dungeons after grabbing some extra candles. 

Knowing where he was going, it didn’t take Dust long to find where Jory Cassel and Sandor Clegane were being kept. Most of the men they’d commanded hadn’t been high enough ranked to merit a stay in the cells and were kept in a stockade, but these two were valuable enough to keep a close eye on.

Squinting against the light of Dust’s torch, Sandor sat up from the pallet of straw. “Well. You’re not dead. Have to say that’s a surprise.” 

“And a good morrow to you too, Mr. Hound,” Dust laughed. He passed through half of the baskets contents, then did the same to the cell on the other side of the hall to Jory. 

“Thank you, Prince Dust,” Jory gasped after taking a long pull from the ale Dust had brought him. “I fear without you they would forget us entirely.”

“Nah, someone’s been through and collected your chamber pots, or it would stink a lot worse,” Dust observed, taking a seat on a nearby wooden stool. “You fat bastards just want more food.”

“Considering they only remember to do that once in a bloody moon, can you blame us,” Sandor mumbled as he gnawed on the bread he’d been given. He lowered it, eyeing Dust appraisingly. “So. Killed my brother, did you?”

“Sorry. But he’s currently feeding the pigs, per my uncles’ request,” Dust answered, giving Sandor a lopsided grin. 

Most men would be horrified to learn their brother was swine fodder, but Sandor chuckled darkly. “Only thing to be sorry for is you got to do it instead of me. Any word on what they’re going to do with Jory and me?”

“You are to be held, but the King admires your courage. He does not intend to have you executed for being loyal to your lords and then surrendering with honor,” Dust explained. “If you were to swear fealty to Stannis…”

“My loyalty is to the Stark in Winterfell, not to whoever sits the Iron Throne,” Jory replied, picking crumbs from his stained surecoat and popping them in his mouth. They really weren’t feeding either man enough, and Dust resolved to see to it that was fixed. 

“And you can tell Stannis to piss off for me. You’ve heard the lies he’s spewing about Kazuma, who is the true king now. He was your friend, boy. How can you even consent to serve Stannis?”

Dust hesitated, but decided it was safer for everyone if Sandor didn’t know the truth. Dorne did not intend to serve Stannis any more than it did Kazuma. For now, they just wanted to see Lannisters and Baratheons slaughter one another. 

“Kazuma may be my friend, but our houses have long had enmity between one another. He is a Lannister, Sandor. Even you have to see that.” Dust bowed to the two men, leaving them a few candles each, then headed back up the long flight of stairs. 

Feeling morose as he always did after a trip down to the dungeons, Dust simply went back to his chambers. However, his uncle was there waiting for him. “Celebrating your victory?” he asked when he noticed the empty wineskins Dust had slung over his shoulder. 

“You don’t celebrate taking out the trash, Uncle. You know me better than that. These were to comfort poor Sandor. He lost a brother today, you know,” Dust said, giving his uncle an impudent grin. 

“Ah, helping another celebrate then. You are still filthy, however, This will not do. Go get washed, and change. We dine with the king and his family tonight.”

“Am I really gonna have to marry Lean?” Dust asked as he shucked off his filthy tunic, tossing it towards a basket. 

“She is not so hard on the eyes, eh? Some would consider you a fortunate man. Claiming the hand of the princess, and becoming Stannis Baratheon’s heir. Hardly a terrible fate.”

“Yeah, but I’m only eleven. I wanted to, you know. Play the field. Like you,” Dust commented as he stepped into the already prepared bath.

His uncle took a seat on the other side of the screen, but Dust could practically hear his shrug. “Just because one is married does not mean he cannot take other lovers. It would be boring to only sleep with one person, even if they were a princess, yes?”

“I guess,” Dust admitted. “Ain’t exactly had much experience.”

“Ha! You will. You shall be quite handsome, I think. And already a mighty warrior. Not to mention the blessing of the goddesses, eh? You shall have many paramours, and even more bastards than I do!” Oberyn laughed. 

Scrubbing himself, Dust considered this. That was the Dornish way after all. Have a wife, but also a lot of lovers. He dismissed it for now, as he frankly didn’t care yet. “Yeah. But I mean... there’s still The Plan, right?” 

“Yes. And what have I told you of such things?” Oberyn growled.    
  
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Dust dunked his head underwater, feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of betraying anyone, even Robert the Usurper’s brother, especially if he were going to marry Lean. Sure, she would be his ticket to becoming Lord of Dragonstone, or maybe Storm’s End, but how much would she like it when Dust helped kidnap her and let Iris Targaryen retake the Throne after the Lannisters and Baratheons had bleed themselves white? 

And Dust really didn’t like the idea of betraying Kazuma. Sure, he bought that Kazuma was a bastard born of incest, but he still liked him. Wasn’t like it was Kazuma’s fault who his parents were. 

Politics, Dust decided, sucked. 

Dinner was awkward, and it wasn’t even that Dust had a hard time making his usual jokes and small talk. The queen was a severe woman who had once been a Florent. She and her husband were both stiff and uncomfortable in one another's presence. Their daughter seemed to be a shy thing, only glancing nervously at Dust occasionally before looking away quickly and burying her face in her food.

As for the king, he talked only of troop deployments, logistics, the likely moves that Tywin Lannister would make, and the need to prevent him from joining up with the River Lords, getting them to favor Lysa over Catelyn in the battle for the Iron Throne. Uncle Oberyn was able to discuss such matters, but Dust was a bit mystified by them all. True, he was informed enough to have an idea of what was being discussed, but it would be many years until his education in martial affairs was complete, and both Oberyn and Stannis were masters of the Art of War, though in different ways. 

“A few hired knives in the dark could make our jobs easier. If, perhaps, a few dead Lannister bannermen turned up, some might think twice about rallying for Tywin,” Oberyn suggested. 

“Knives in the dark are unreliable at best, and an expensive waste at worst if you hire a halfway decent assassin,” Stannis said dismissively. “Go back to your suggestions for raiding their baggage: that has far more merit.”

The conversation went on like that throughout the meal, until Lean tugged at her mother’s sleeve and whispered something. 

“Now is not the time, child,” Queen Selyse snapped. “Keep such matters private until your Lord Father says otherwise.”

Before long, Lean was sent away with a maid, and Dust made his own excuses and left, his Uncle and Stannis still deep in conversation. If Dust was right, Oberyn was just learning the weaknesses of Stannis’s forces, so when the betrayal happened, it would be easier to destroy him. 

Putting that aside, Dust decided it was time for some fun. He hurried back to his chamber, changing out of his doublet and hose, and putting on dark leathers. He took out a rope with a grappling hook on it, a pair of soft leather gloves and boots for climbing, and made his way to his balcony. He eyed the Red Keep, guessing where the Princess had her chambers. Grinning to himself, he spun the grapple, then began his long climb in the dark. 

After nearly an hour of scaling red stone, Dust made it to the correct chambers. He’d made a few bad guesses, but avoided detection. Hanging upside down from the window sill, he popped his head into the room, looking around. He grinned when he saw Lean. She appeared to be alone, and was preparing for bed. She turned away from Dust, and-

Dust fell with a cry, barely managing to grab onto the bottom of the window with one hand, he was so startled. He swore angrily as his grapple plummeted, landing with a thump on the roof below him. He felt his grip slipping, and wondered if this was how his legend ended. So stupid. He should have-

“Oh! Who are you? Are you an assassin? I’m warning you, if you try anything, I’ll roast you!” 

  
Dust blinked, looking up to see Princess Lean glaring at him, a finger that had a glowing pinprick of red light flickering at its tip pointed at him. 

Quickly, he removed his hood. “Um, actually, it’s me, Dust. I was, er, going to pay you a midnight visit. We’re supposed to get married, but we’ve never talked so-”

“Oh!” the light vanished, and Lean grabbed Dust’s arm. “I’ve got you!”

“Maybe you should just call someone? I’m kinda heavy so-WOAH!” 

With a grunt, Lean hauled Dust into her room, the force of her heave sending him flying up and onto her so that both children toppled to the ground in a heap. Dust righted himself, and found he was looking down at the flustered Lean. 

  
“Er, sorry!” Dust sprang up, then offered Lean a hand. “Thanks for the save.”

Gingerly, Lean accepted the hand, slowly standing. She tried desperately to keep her back to Dust, but it was too late. 

“So, er, what’s with the tail?” Dust blurted before he could stop to think. Something of a problem for him, actually. 

“Oh. You saw it.” Lean seemed to wilt, and tears sprang into her eyes. Behind her, a long, bushy striped tail drooped to the ground. “You know. You’ll never want to marry me now. I’m cursed.”

  
“Huh? How? Man, that tail is so cool!” Dust blurted, shuffling around to peer at the tail. “Can I touch it?”

Lean jerked back, her jaw dropping. “Touch it, but- but the Maesters all say I’m cursed! W-Why would you want to touch it?!”

“Looks fuzzy. Is it fuzzy?” Dust asked, reaching out a finger to poke at the tail. Instead, Lean whipped it out of the way and jerked away from him, clutching her tail tightly to herself. 

“D-Don’t just touch a girl’s tail like that! I-It’s sensitive!” 

“Oh.” Dust frowned, scratching at his head in confusion. “Do all girls have tails?”

It was a stupid question, and Dust knew it. He had seen girls before, and knew the answer perfectly well, though he wasn’t clear on the finer points of their anatomy. 

“What?! Are you stupid? No! Of course not! Do all boys have tails?” Lean snapped. 

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Dust said, “Yeah, but ours is in front.”

  
“Huh? That doesn’t-” Lean cut off and went bright red, her tail standing up straight and bristling behind her. “YOU PERVERT!”

Dust whooped and dodged away as Lean threw pillows, books, and other small objects at him. That didn’t last long, as two Baratheon guards burst in, swords at the ready to defend their princess. 

“Ah, I must away!” Dust declared, jumping out to the balcony. He bowed deeply to Lean as the guards ran after him. “I shall see you on the nonce, milady. Farwell.” Then Dust plucked out a flower from a pot on the balcony, and tossed it over the guards heads. Lean managed to catch it, gaping at him, and Dust salued and jumped. 

Why had he been worried before again? He could easily fall a few stories and at worst he might get a few bruises. He forgot about that sometimes. Dust landed on the roof and ran across the red tiles. He made it back to his rooms, and had just enough time to throw on bed clothes and pretend to fall asleep when his own door burst open. 

“Huh?” Dust muttered, rubbing at his eyes as though he’d just been awakened. “Oh! Your Grace, what an unexpected-”

  
“What,” the king growled, “were you doing in my daughter’s chambers?”

Having the tall, bald man with a sword at his side looming over his bed sort of made Dust forget that he’d killed the Mountain earlier that day. Especially since he did feel a bit guilty. 

“Well, since everyone says I’m supposed to marry her, I figured, as a proper Dornishman, I ought to woo the lady,” Dust said slowly, leaning away from Stannis and giving him his best winning smile.

  
Stannis, of course, did not smile. Dust wondered if the king was capable of such a thing. “And sneaking into my daughter’s chambers after sundown while making ribald japes is your idea of wooing someone?”   
  


“I learn from the best!” Dust chuckled nervously. “Just ask Uncle Oberyn!” 

Stannis leaned away from Dust, still glowering. “Hmph. So. You have seen her...condition.”

“What condition?” Dust said, his nose wrinkling in perplexity. “She doesn’t have any greyscale that I saw.”

“Then you are either blind, a fool, or lying. Surely you noticed Lean’s...particularity.”

  
“What, the tail? Yeah, that’s pretty cool. Can she turn into an animal or something? I always wished I could turn into a hawk and fly. I’ve got some cool powers but so far I can just jump really high,” Dust babbled, desperate to talk his way out of trouble. He had yet to learn in this life (or most of them, actually) that the more he talked, typically the deeper the hole he dug for himself. 

This time, it seemed Eris was on Dust’s side, as Stannis stood silently for a long moment, eyeing the boy, who had a dopey grin plastered on his face.

“You find her an acceptable match? You would not mock nor mistreat my daughter?”

  
“Well, I mean, I’d never mistreat a lady, but people tell me I mock them pretty regularly, so that part I dunno about. Personally, I think I’ve shown a great deal of restraint not making any of the bald jokes I’ve thought of since you walked into the room,” Dust babbled. 

Not even that elicited a smile from Stannis, which made Dust sweat more than a hot day at Sunspear. 

“Very well. I shall agree to the match then,” Stannis said, then turned about and headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, turning to give Dust a baleful eye. “My daughter is not yet old enough for your Dornish predilections. Prince or not, you will wait until both you and she come of age, or you will face my wrath. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yessir,” Dust gasped, hastily saluting and stiffening to an upright sitting position in his bed. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting on, but he was absolutely sure he did not want to make Stannis angry. More than he already was, anyway.

Stannis nodded, and stalked away, leaving Dust to breath out a huge sigh of relief. He flopped back onto his bed, grinning to himself. A Princess, and one with a tail at that? That was so awesome! This was going to be great.

  
And then he remembered he was supposed to betray Lean and Stannis to the Targaryens, and was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Moral dilemmas had never been Dust’s strong point.

Though, rescuing beautiful princesses was certainly up his alley... 

  
  


_ Cast of Characters: _

_ Dust as: Inago Montoya.  _

_ Lean as: Buttercup, but she actually does something.  _

_ Stannis as: Stop that, stop that. Too silly. And a little bit suspect I think. _

_ Gregor Clegane as: And strike another one off The List... _

_ Sandor Clegane as: Wait, does this mean Clegane Bowl is canceled? WORST FIC EVER.  _

_ And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as Not Left Handed. _


	29. Is That What They're Calling it Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs to go to Horny Jail. 
> 
> Only problem is, Satella is running Horny Jail.

_ This episode brought to you by...Oh my. Er, did Darkness choose our sponsor today? Um, yeah. I think we’re going to have to take the hit on this one guys.  _

_ Chapter 28: Is That What They’re Calling It These Days? _

The last leg of the Starks’ long journey back home began with another boat ride, this one on a fast galley up the White Knife River. A part of Eddard he hadn’t even realized had been full of nervous tension relaxed as he found himself in the North once more. This was where a Stark belonged, not the South. However, this would be but a respite. He would stay at Winterfell only so long as was needed to rally his banners and march south. 

On the first day of their journey upriver, Eddard noticed Kazuma standing sullenly by the rail of the boat. He’d snapped at Tyrion and even Myrcella, and only seemed to tolerate Megumin’s presence. As she was currently seeing to Chomusuke, who was once more seasick despite no longer being at sea, the uncrowned king stood alone, watching the landscape race past. 

“Your Grace,” Eddard said, walking over to stand beside the boy. Kazuma had grown quite a bit even since leaving Winterfell, and would soon be taller than Eddard himself. Much like Robert had at Kazuma’s age, the boy was outstripping his clothes nearly as soon as they could be fitted. 

“Hey,” Kazuma said, not looking up from where he had his chin resting on the railing. 

“You seem troubled this day,” Eddard observed, gently probing to see if he could get the boy to open up. 

Slowly, Kazuma stood up, his eyes flickering to Eddard’s. “My dad… he wasn’t a good king, was he?” 

Eddard was silent for a long moment, composing his own thoughts. “Your father was a brave and valiant man.”

“Yeah, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’ve read about kings who were brave, or kind, or good, or gentle. But they were all terrible. My dad was like that, wasn’t he?” Kazuma asked. 

“Robert was…” Eddard reached for kind words, then sighed heavily and simply spoke the truth. “The realm collapsed into civil war when your father died. He did a poor job of administering his lords. He allowed treacherous councilors to make their den in his small council. The realm is bankrupt and deeply in debt. No. Robert was not a good king. He was a good man, but the throne ruined him.”

“That’s what I thought. I talked with him in the Sept at White Harbor,” Kazuma explained. “Eris was there. She and Chris are...I dunno. But anyway, she let me speak to my dad. You know what he was doing?”

Mutely, Eddard shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the casual way Kazuma spoke of meeting with yet another goddess, or of speaking with the dead themselves.

“He was sleeping with Satella,” Kazuma growled, leaning over and grasping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. “He’s not even dead for a month. And he’s cheating on my mom. Again.”

“Is it not a part of your religion that all are given over to the goddess Satella, who is a jealous lover of all?” Eddard managed, scraping up what little knowledge of the Faith of the Seven he remembered Catelyn and Cecily sharing with him. 

“I guess. But that’s all he did in life too. You know how many bastards my dad had?” Kazuma demanded. 

“Ah, I have some knowledge,” Eddard admitted. 

“Sixteen,” Kazuma pronounced. “I know. I checked. I made sure each and every one of my little sisters and brothers were cared for, and kept out of my mom’s way.”

“You… you knew?” Eddard asked, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. 

“Of course I did. It wasn’t exactly a secret,” Kazuma said, making a face. “Want to know something else? Dad ignored them even better than he did Tommen and Myrcella. Just like he ignored being king. That’s what made him bad at it.”

“What do you think it is to be a good king?” Eddard asked, trying to change the subject and feeling terribly heartsick. Kazuma was a boy. And yet, he had to be king. 

Kazuma considered that for a moment, looking out as the trees along the river bank raced past. “A lot of things. I’ve read books, you know. A lot of them. More than a few about being king. You need to be strong, like my dad was. A king can’t be weak, he has to be able to lead his bannermen in battle. Not just physically strong, but to have strength of character and mind. You have to be wise, and willing to listen to your advisors. But you can’t just listen to everyone. Like my dad with Lord Baelish, that backstabbing bastard. And, I think this is really important, you can’t let yourself get into debt. Especially not for stupid tourneys.”

“Those are all things that make a good king, but you left out what I believe is the most important part of being a good king, and a good leader of men,” Eddard told the boy. 

Kazuma nodded, his eyes fixed on Eddard’s face, hanging on his words. “What’s that?”

“Honor.”

“Honor?” Kazuma asked, frowning. 

“A Lord is more than just a figurehead. He is the example he must set for his followers. His life must be one that others can emulate. He must be worthy of the trust of his followers; behaving with honor in word and deed and keeping his oaths. He must be loyal, returning fealty for service, and granting gifts and rewards to those who serve him, while punishing those who would break that sacred trust.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Kazuma agreed, nodding at Eddard’s words, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “My dad wasn’t honorable, was he? He wasn’t loyal to my mom, that’s for sure.”

“Robert was...he had honor on the battlefield, and there he was a great and worthy leader. But in peace, he was lost,” Eddard told Kazuma. “I wish I had nought but praise for your father, for he was my dear friend. But you need to hear the truth from me, Kazuma, and I must tell you that your father stained his honor black with his infidelity.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m pretty sure Megumin would literally kill me if I cheated on her,” Kazuma said, glancing down the deck to where the girl in question was rubbing Chomusuke’s back as the wolf lay moaning on the deck. He looked back to Eddard and gave him a smile. “Don’t worry, even if she wouldn’t, I don’t want to be like my dad in that way. Sure, having a bunch of little sisters is nice, and I guess having a lot of women is fun, but I’m not gonna hurt her like that. You know, it’s the weirdest thing, but I almost feel like I’ve known Megumin my whole life.”

“You are yet young. A few months is a long time when you are a boy of twelve years. I hope you and Megumin know each other for many years to come.” Eddard cleared his throat. “Megumin? Come here for a moment. Chomusuke will keep.”

“Yeah dad?” Megumin asked, hurrying over. 

Eddard sighed heavily, closing his eyes and composing himself. “When we reach Winterfell, the two of you must wed.”

“WHAT!?” both children cried. They looked at one another aghast, then blushed and looked away.

“I mean, if I were going to marry someone, I guess Kazuma’s not the worst,” Megumin muttered. 

Kazuma kicked at the deck, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe...maybe I would be OK with that...but why now? I thought we were going to wait until we were both adults.”

“That was when you were merely the Crown Prince, and we thought your reign many years distant,” Eddard told the two children. It grieved him that they were going to be forced into this, but he knew it was the only way forward. “Now, you are the king. And the king must have a wife, with the promise of an heir. It will also solidify the alliance between our houses, and make you not just a Southron King, but the King of the North as well.”

“We’re not going to have to... you know,” Megumin asked, blushing and furtively glancing at Kazuma. 

“No. It would be wise to wait to consummate your marriage, and there will be no bedding ceremony,” Eddard told them. “But the bond will be quite real. I would be more hesitant to do this, but it is obvious to everyone the two of you are fond of one another. I am glad. Though I have found happiness and love in my own marriage, the early years with Catelyn were hard. Especially as she believed I had been unfaithful to her.”

Kazuma blinked, and Eddard saw a look of betrayal in his eyes at the realization that Jon Snow was, in fact, proof that Eddard Stark had supposedly violated his own marriage vows.

“Believed?” Megumin asked, frowning at her father. She wasn’t called a genius just because she could blow up a fleet. “Wait. What are you saying? Is this why mom was suddenly so much nicer to Jon? Did you finally reveal his dark and terrible secret? Is he a changeling? Did you find him in a dungeon or were given him by a dark and terrible goddess?”

Ok, so maybe more of a mad genius.

“You...you didn’t betray your wife, did you?” Kazuma asked, sounding desperate to believe that at least this father figure was honorable. 

“This is a secret you must tell no one,” Eddard said, glancing around. “But Jon is my nephew. I took him as my bastard because he is the son of my sister, Lyanna.”

“Wait, really? I thought she got kidnapped by-” Kazuma began, but Megumin interrupted. 

  
“Jon’s a TARGARYEN!?” she gasped, her hands flying to her face. “That is so cool!” 

“Wait, if he’s a Targaryen, then that would mean…” Kazuma trailed off, then went pale. “Oh no.”

“He has joined the Night’s Watch,” Eddard said firmly. “Whatever claims he had to the throne are void. I tell you this now so that you understand. I was willing to have that stain upon my own honor to preserve the safety of the life of one dear to me. I raised Jon as my own son, and loved him as my own, but he was never mine.”

“You really should have told mom, you know,” Megumin lectured, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at her father. “And us. We wouldn’t have cared. Jon’s my brother no matter what you say.”

“It would be best if he ever remains Jon Snow. When this is over, I will travel to the Wall and tell him the truth. He deserves to know as much as anyone,” Eddard explained. 

“I get it,” Kazuma agreed. “My dad would have killed him, wouldn't he? Just because he was a Targaryen.”

Despite the pain it brought him, Eddard acknowledged Kazuma’s point. “I suspect that is so, even though he is the son of Lyanna.”

“Huh. That’s...well. I like Big J, so I think maybe him staying at the Wall in secret is probably for the best,” Kazuma declared. Then he eyed Megumin. “And, um, I do want to marry you, Megumin. I mean, I didn’t think it would happen so early, but... I do like you.”

“I suppose I can consent to being queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Provided I don’t have to wear a dress all the time,” Megumin said, making a face. 

“Considering we’re about to fight a war, I think maybe plate is gonna be more appropriate,” Kazuma laughed. 

“Yes! I wonder if that means I can’t squire for Brienne anymore?” Megumin mused. 

“I think that perhaps you should continue to do so. It would serve you well to learn such skills,” Eddard told his daughter, feeling slightly relieved. Seeming much happier, Kazuma and Megumin ran off to get their swords. Syrio had needed to wait on another boat, as the galley had traveled with only the most important members of the group, but soon the clatter of wood filled the air along with the rower’s grunts as the ship raced up stream. 

Over the course of the next two days on the river, Eddard had to deal with Olenna and Cersei, who were still trying to broker a marriage between Margaery and either Robb or Tyrion. However, when they informed Tyrion of the matter, his stance was simple.

“I’m not marrying the girl. She’s a giant, and I’m a dwarf. I’d look silly enough next to a normal woman. Beside that maid, I’d look like nothing so much as her babe and turn the entire thing into a jape.”

“Brother, it would make sense. Your marriage to the girl would tie the Reach to the Throne, and perhaps persuade some of Mace Tyrell’s bannermen to come over to our side,” Cersei argued. 

“Have sense, man. Not every marriage is one the bards will sing of. My granddaughter would be a proper match for the next Lord of Casterly Rock, and she’s perverted enough to fulfill even your foolish fantasies,” Olenna barked. 

Tyrion shook his head, glaring at both women. “Have you asked the girl how she feels about this? She’s half my age and twice my height. As for my fantasies, they certainly do not involve her. The idea it would take a pervert to love me insults both our houses.”

“I’ve heard what you get up to in the brothels, boy,” Olenna snorted. “You’re as twisted as my granddaughter, and I don’t mean your body.”

“The answer is no, and shall remain that way,” Tyrion said testily, and hurried off. Both women glared after him, then looked to Eddard. 

“I’m not forcing Lord Tyrion into a match he has no desire for, no shall I counsel the king to do so,” he told them stiffly. “As for my own son, I shall arrange a marriage for him in due time.”

Unfortunately for Eddard, Olenna had other plans. And his son was kind of a dope. In Robb's defense, he was a teenager. 

The first day they were off of the boats on the three day overland trip to Winterfell, Olenna cut Darkness out of line and had her ride beside her a short ways off the road. 

“You’re nearly sixteen now, and unbetrothed. It is unseemly,” Olenna told her granddaughter without preamble.

“Yes, grandmother,” Darkness said, looking down despondently. “I know my desire for combat and, um, other urges have scared away the men Father tried to interest me in.”

“You chased off a Florent, a Hightower, and even a Royce,” Olenna said, feeling exasperated. “And two of them you beat bloody! They didn’t even have the courage to tell my idiot son why they ran off and declined the betrothal!” 

“I, I wasn’t trying to hurt them! I just, I wanted them to beat me, but when they tried I got too excited, and um,” Darkness blushed, remembering how a simple embrace from her had broken two ribs and a shoulder, and another time a single blow from her during a sparring session had shattered an arm. 

“Well, I’m going to give you a choice, girl. You can marry Tyrion Lannister or Robb Stark,” Olenna informed, giving Darkness a glower stern enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

“T-Tyrion!?” Darkness squeaked. “B-But he’s-” Darkness was going to protest he was too kindly to make a good husband, and too small to properly abuse her, but Olenna cut her off. 

“The heir to Casterly Rock, if Tywin ever bothers to admit Jaime is actually a member of the Kingsguard. And Tyrion is known for his love of whores and perverse nature.”

“Oh.” Darkness considered that. “Um, I think I would still prefer Robb. He, he is, ah, er, closer to me in age?” 

Olenna regarded her granddaughter and her ingratiating smile, and snorted in disgust. “You’re just interested in him because you watched him rip three men limb from limb and want him to do the same to you.”

“H-He is the heir to Winterfell! A-And is noble, and kind and has sharp, dangerous claws he could rake down my back, and savagely maul me while-” Darkness realized she was salivating, and wiped at her mouth in embarrassment. “Um, that is, he would be a good match, I think.”

“You’ve already been at him, haven’t you girl!” Olenna accused, drawing her horse close and studying Darkness’s face. “Has he taken your maidenhead already? If you’ve sullied yourself-”

“N-No! H-He has not! I, um, I might have told him to bind me and ravish me, but, ah, even during the full moon, he unfortunately, I mean, Lord Robb was a proper gentleman and in no way violated me despite my encouragement, but he did rake my back most horrendously, and he bit at my neck and-” Darkness cut herself off, blushing and looking away. “...I am sorry, Grandmother. I know this is not a proper way for a lady to behave herself. I...I shall stay away from Robb and maintain my honor.”

“Now’s not the time for that, girl.”

Darkness spun back around, her mouth falling open as her grandmother nodded in satisfaction. “Likes you, does he? Barely managed to hold himself back from taking your maidenhead?”

“Ummm,” Darkness stammered, going even redder than she had before. “We, er, we sort of wore ourselves out wrestling before then, and I had on my armor, and his claws weren’t very good at taking it off, and, well, it wasn’t for lack of trying, but, ah, we behaved...mostly correctly…”   
  


“Too bad. Next time, don’t wear your armor,” Olenna ordered, and Darkness gasped in astonishment.

“G-Grandmother! You told me to never-”

“I told you to never bed a man unless it was the time for it,” Olenna scolded. “Well girl, now is the time!”

“B-But we are not married!” Darkness protested. 

“And you won’t be, because of that idiot Eddard’s sense of honor,” Olenna snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Darkness as she flinched back; “If you don’t manage to bed the boy, Cersei is going to see to it you marry Tyrion, and I’ll help her. So either you lure Robb to your bed and ensure that he’s properly trapped, or you accede to marrying the dwarf.”

“T-That does not sound very honorable,” Darkness protested weakly, leaning away from her grandmother as sweat beaded on her brow despite the cold. 

“You’re a woman. Leave honor to the battlefield. In matters of the bed, you do what you have to,” Olenna explained. “You think it was an accident that I ended up with your grandfather?”

“Um, no?” Darkness guessed. 

“Damn right. I had to work everything out. First, I had to get that shrew to marry her brother, then I lured Luthor to a grove and made sure he knew what was on offer if he convinced his father to marry me to him,” Olenna said with a sniff, causing her granddaughter to glare at her. 

“You mean, you…” Darkness wracked her mind, her lips moving slightly. Then her eyes went wide. “My father was born only eight months after you were wed!”

“Because I was already pregnant, fool girl. We kept it quiet, and babes have been born early before, but it was obvious to anyone with a lick of sense that the reason the wedding happened so quickly was because I arranged for your great-grandfather to find us in the act, so to speak.”

This revelation made Darkness gape at her grandmother, until she managed to lick her lips and timidly ask, “You mean...you mean you’re a pervert too?”

“No. What I did was to ensure that I had a properly highborn husband who could influence the politics of the realm and ensure that my legacy was secure. What you do is because your base desires overrule what little good sense you have,” Olenna snapped. 

“Yes, grandmother,” Darkness muttered, thinking rebelliously that Robb was just as highborn as her grandfather was, and would be brother to the queen to boot. 

“Now, our family is in a precarious position. On the one hand, Stannis holds your brothers and lord father hostage, fool men that they are. That means he can force your father to call his banners on behalf of the usurper.”

“But we’re here, which means that we serve Kazuma, the true king,” Darkness agreed. “And if we’re not careful, we could be branded traitors by both sides.”

“Exactly. Good to see you have a brain rattling around in that thick skull of yours. Now, this does also present an opportunity: no matter which way the war goes, our house is poised to be on the winning side.”

“Grandmother! That, that is dishonorable!” Darkness cried in horror. 

“Oh relax. I’m quite certain that Kazuma will prove victorious, if for no other reason than if his bride can blow up a fleet, it stands to reason she can do the same to an army. Which means we have to show we were loyal to Kazuma all along. Thus, you need to bed Robb Stark as soon as possible.”

“I, um, I-” Darkness stammered, then wilted under her grandmother's gaze. “Yes, Grandmother.”

“We’ll be in Winterfell in two days time. That means you have two nights to seduce the boy. I hope you’ve been paying attention to my lessons on how to catch a man’s interest.”

“I’m not very good at simpering,” Darkness muttered. “I should just challenge him to a duel and let him beat me. Then, when he tries to comfort me, I can-”

“Be sensible! Just crawl into his tent naked. He’ll figure it out,” Olenna ordered, then guided her horse back towards the main road. A moment later, a very perplexed Darkness followed after her. 

That evening when the party had stopped to camp, Darkness was pacing back and forth outside of her tent, muttering to herself. She was wearing her quilted under armour, as they had not yet been able to procure ladies’ clothing for her. Even in White Harbor, there were not many over six foot ladies with an overly generous bust size and muscles like those of an amazon. 

“Darkness? Are you well?” Brienne asked, stepping out of their tent. Unlike Darkness, she was dressed in riding leathers, as her figure was close enough to a man’s that it hadn’t been hard to find. While Brienne was envious of her friend's more womanly attributes, she was also grateful she was from a minor house and didn’t have to deal with the politics or an overbearing grandmother. 

“No,” Darkness admitted. She looked around, then hurriedly explained to Brienne her conundrum. 

“Do you wish to marry Lord Robb?” Brienne asked, frowning at her friend.

“Well, yes,” Darkness admitted. “He is a kind man, but has a vicious, brutal side. You should have seen the way he dominated me so easily! Even when I used all my strength, I could not prevent him from having his way with me!” 

Brienne gave her friend a flat look, but didn’t chastise her. She was unfortunately all too familiar with Darkness’s predalictions. “Did he take your maidenhead already?”

“Um, no, that’s why my grandmother wants me to, ah, ‘crawl into his tent naked.’ But...I don’t think that’s what I should do. Even though I would eagerly allow Robb to have his way with me, even past the point of no return, um...it seems very dishonest. I do wish to be humiliated and abused, but I don’t think he does.”

“Well, why not simply tell him you wish to wed him?” Brienna asked, scratching at her head. “You’re both highborn, and he seems to like you if what you said about what happened on the ship is true.”

“But that is not...my grandmother said I needed to seduce him,” Darkness said, wringing her hands.

“Darkness, he spent a night in the bilges of a ship doing every possible thing with you short of actually bedding you,” Brienne said in exasperation. “If you haven’t already seduced him, I don’t know what would.” 

“R-Really? But what if he finds me distasteful? M-Most men are put off by my strength, or my forwardness, or would not entertain the rough treatment of a lady that I long for…”

Taking her friend by the shoulder, Brienne halted Darkness in her tracks. “You are an honorable woman, for all your strangeness. Do you really wish to entrap a man who does not desire you as his wife?”

“Well, no, but my grandmother said that was how you get a man. She even admitted that she, um…”

“Are you Margaery Tyrell, or are you Ser Darkness, Knight of the Realm?” Brienne barked. 

Immediately, Darkness stood up straight, puffing out her impressive chest as she snapped to attention. “I am Ser Darkness, the stalwart knight who shall shield all her allies from harm!”

“Then shall you behave as a simpering girl like Margaery Tyrell would, or shall you act with honor, as a knight would?” Brienne growled, poking Darkness in the chest with a finger.

“I...I shall give battle to my foes, never retreating an inch!” Darkness declared. 

“Good, then go forth, and act with honor!” Brienne ordered. 

  
“Yes, yes of course! Megumin!” 

“Huh?” Megumin looked up from a campfire not far away, where she was sitting with her sister and Kazuma, a bowl of stew in her hands. 

“We must gird for battle!” Darkness declared. “Our foe shall be vanquished, and we shall stand triumphant on the field!” 

“Yes!” Megumin cried, and jumped up, wiping her mouth with a sleeve and dropping her empty bowl as she ran over. “Let us prepare!” 

Brienne eyed Darkness as they suited up for war. This had not been what she had meant, but Brienne decided not to say anything. Perhaps Darkness’s future husband would be best served knowing what he was getting himself into. 

Across the camp, Eddard was sitting with Robb, Jaime, and Ser Barristan around a fire of their own, eating and discussing their plans for marching south. 

“The hard part will be getting the Late Lord Frey on our side,” Jaime opined. “If he denies us a crossing at the Twins, we could be delayed. We have to find a way to make it over without losing any more time.”

“Walder Frey is a cautious man, and Stannis seems to have the loyalty of four of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as the Crownlands. We have but the Westerlands and the North, and perhaps the Riverlands,” Bariston pointed out. 

“He’ll want a price,” Eddard agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Something that would give him a stake in our victory.”

“Perhaps lands or titles?” Robb suggested. “He has a large family.”

“That family is the problem, he’s going to want to marry a few of them off to us if he wants anything,” Jaime said, making a face. “You and I may both find ourselves wed to Freys if we’re not careful, my lord.” 

“But, you’re a member of the Kingsguard!” Robb gasped, going scarlet. “And I don’t wish to marry a Frey!” 

“As much as it would pain me, I serve the King, and if what my nephew needs is for me to take marriage vows, I’ll do it,” Jaime said quietly. “My honor is already stained. Better I stain it further and do my king a service than attempt to polish what everyone already considers blemished beyond salvaging.”

“A hard choice, but one I understand,” Ser Barristan agreed. “There is more than one way to show honor, Ser Jaime. You have changed much during Robert’s reign.”

Jaime dipped his head in gratitude, but before the conversation could continue, bedlam erupted behind the men. They turned to the sound of drum beats, and found Megumin bearing the rose banner of House Tyrell (helpfully magiced into existence by Lady and Yunyun working together) while Chris banged away enthusiastically and very unmusically on a large drum. Darkness and Brienne were marching together in full plate, their helmets under their arms, and grim expressions on their faces. 

  
Nearby, Olenna let a rather foul oath, then loudly demanded that someone bring her wine. She had stayed away from the bottle during the voyage, but she seemed to have developed a sudden thirst upon witnessing her granddaughter’s antics. 

“I said seduce, not challenge to a joust,” Olenna grumbled as a very confused servant brought her a wineskin. 

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Megumin shouted, coming to a stop with her Tyrell banner not far from Robb, a rather manic grin on her face. “Ser Darkness does challenge Robb of House Stark to a duel, over a matter of honor. She demands that the oaf in question either meet her on the field of battle, or surrender and agree to her demands.”

“What demands?” Eddard asked, looking at Robb, his brow furrowing. 

“Father, I am afraid I have stained this knight's honor, and must answer her challenge,” Robb said stiffly. 

Eddard looked baffled, but nodded his ascent. He looked to Megumin as Robb hurried to don his own plate. “Are you responsible for this?”

“The drum was my idea,” Megumin admitted. “And the banner. But they wouldn’t do a proper pose.”

“Let’s all be grateful for that,” Olena muttered as she drained her wineskin. 

Several minutes later, Robb emerged, bearing his sword and clad in plate. He and Darkness stepped out to a clear patch, and a crowd quickly assembled to watch. 

  
“Kick him in the balls!” Myrcella shouted to Darkness. 

  
“Throw dirt in her eyes!” Tommen coached Robb. 

“This is an honorable duel. There will be no such underhanded tactics,” Brienne pronounced. “Now, begin!” 

For about thirty seconds, Robb and Darkness met in an orderly clash of steel, with Darkness even managing a fair bit of sword play that was effective, if not elegant. However, after that, the battle quickly devolved into a farce. Darkness became all too eager to let the blows hit her, and dropped her shield, happily letting Robb batter her with his sword and crying out in pleasure as she swung hers about wildly. 

For his part, Robb grew increasingly frantic and wild in his attacks, and eventually dropped his sword, letting out a howl charging Darkness, bowling her over so that they both landed in a clatter of plate. Eddard gasped and made to move to separate the fighters, but Brienne blocked his path. 

“Let them finish,” she said grimly. 

After a wild scuffle, Robb had Darkness pinned to the ground, her helm having been lost in the melee. 

  
“You have bested me,” Darkness panted. “My honor is satisfied! Now, claim your prize!” 

“What? What are you saying?” Robb snarled, ripping off his own helmet and tossing it aside to glare down at the blushing Darkness. 

“You have conquered me! I am at your mercy! Carry me away from my family, and make me your bride!” Darkness cried, spreading her arms wide. 

Olenna let out a groan and put her face in her hands, having drained a second wineskin during the brief duel. For his part, Eddard was gaping in astonishment. Especially when Robb leapt up, slung Darkness (who was moaning in pleasure) over one shoulder and bellowed, “I claim this woman as my prize! She is mine!” and then made to run away into the forest.

He stopped when his father punched him cleanly in the jaw, staggering Robb. 

“What,” Eddard growled, glaring at his oldest son. “Are. You. Doing?” 

Blinking, Robb rubbed his jaw, apparently returning to his senses.

“He’s going to ravish me and claim me as his woman with savage, primal lust!” Darkness said eagerly, her eyes dancing in delight. 

“Robb, this is no way to behave. If you want to marry the girl, you have to discuss it with me, and her family,” Eddard snapped, pointing to Olenna. “Darkness is of noble blood: you cannot simply abscond with her.”

“Even if I would really, really enjoy it?” Darkness asked as Robb set her down. 

Eddard resisted the urge to claw at his eyes and scream in gibbering madness. Thankfully, he had a lot of practice: after eleven years with his three daughters, this was a normal day to him. 

“Even then. Robb, do you wish to marry this woman?”

  
“Um, yes. I er, well, we’ve sort of been sneaking away and exchanging kisses, and, ah, other things,” Robb admitted. 

  
“You heard the boy!” Olenna cried, suddenly sober, though her breath still stank of wine. “He’s violated Margaery’s virtue! I demand they be wed!” 

“G-Grandmother! We-”

Olenna slapped Darkness upside the back of her head. “Be silent! Do not make this worse, girl!” 

“We, er, haven’t gone quite that far,” Robb admitted. “Mostly due to lack of opportunity.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, Eddard bit back a sigh.

“You give your blessing to the union on behalf of Lady Margaery’s family, Lady Olenna?” 

“I do. I insist on it, in fact. As I’ve bloody well been telling you for a week and more, you thick headed buffoon,” Olenna harrumphed. Eddard chose to ignore that last comment.

“Then they shall be wed upon our return to Winterfell, Goddesses Old and New willing,” Eddard declared, looking up to meet the eyes of his son and apparent new daughter in law. 

“I think they make a great couple!” Lady said eagerly. “Oh boy, a wedding! Yunyun, we’ll have to bake a cake! I know lots of good recipes for cake!” 

“I too approve of my brother’s new mate,” Grey Wind said soberly, briefly assuming his human form. He clasped Robb’s hand and slapped him on the back, then bowed to Darkness before shifting back.

“I just checked with Aqua, she’s all for it!” Cecily piped up, giving the couple a big thumbs up. “All Love is blessed in the eyes of the Axis Cult! Even Masochists and furries! Not sure what a furry is, though.”

Eddard looked to Cersei for someone to be a beacon of sanity in the madness, but she merely shrugged. “It does tie House Tyrell to Kazuma by marriage. It’s politically advantageous, and at least no one can say we forced the girl into the marriage.”

“Why not? Robb should force me! I want him to drag me away, throw me onto a bed and-”

“There are children present,” Eddard said coldly, which made Darkness blush and cover her mouth as she stammered out a few incoherent and muffled apologies. Then he smiled and gave Darkness a hug. “I suppose I should be grateful my son has found such a strong woman, one who can guard his back in war, and who has the honor to fight for her convictions.”

“I...you are not upset that I do not intend to give up the sword?” Darkness asked, sounding confused. 

Eddard pulled back, frowning at her. “Why would you do that? We’re about to ride to war. You shall be needed at the front.”

“You’re in the North now,” Megumin said proudly. “We are not soft Southron ladies! We ride to battle alongside our men, and make our foes lament our coming!” 

“Not every Northern woman is as fierce as my daughter,” Eddard chuckled, messing with her hair. “But if a woman takes up the sword in the North, she is not shunned for it, especially not if she is skilled with a blade. I imagine that Lady Mormont and her heir, Dacey, shall lead their men into battle. Both of them are skilled at arms, and some of my most loyal bannermen.”

“And bannerWOmen,” Megumin muttered. 

“Truely, this is a great leap forward for gender equality!” Kazuma declared. “I give this marriage my blessing. Nice, R Dawg.”

With that, the matter was settled. 

And Eddard made absolutely certain that Robb slept alone that night. 

_ Cast of Characters: _

_ Robb Stark as: I mean, if that's what you're into? _

_ Darkness as: Getting everything she's ever wanted. _

_ Brienne as: Someone has to be the sensible friend. _

_ Olenna as: Hello? Alcoholics Anonymous? Can I sign up a friend? _

_ Kazuma and Megumin as: A pair of enablers. _

_ And Eddard Stark as the Last Sane Man in Westeros. _

_ And the cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as shipping bait. _

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a TV tropes page.   
> https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/AClashOfNEETs
> 
> And a discord chat.  
> https://discord.gg/MfT9ueQs


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